i remember sneaking
a sip
of my father's eggnog
when he
left the room
to go yell at the other kids
to be quiet
because he was watching
it's a wonderful life.
what the hell, i said out
loud,
burning my tongue
and lips
on the whiskey infused
drink.
who in their right mind
would want to
drink this.
and now, as i sit by the fire,
stockings hung,
my sugar plum
beside me, snuggled
against my hip,
i sip away, kind of liking
the taste
of it.
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