Yule Log Gone Wild

The Yule log twists,
a mythical creature with flaming eyes,
bouncing on the fireplace mantle,
crackling with laughter,
its bark shedding sparks like confetti,
as it recites nonsensical poetry,
words swirling like smoke in the air.

“Snowflakes melt into the shape of clocks!”
it declares,
each flake a fleeting moment,
dripping time on the hearth,
while stockings hang in disbelief,
stuffed with echoes of wishes,
waiting for the chaos to unfold.

Candy canes spiral in confusion,
twisting like thoughts in a whirlwind,
as gingerbread men leap from their trays,
doing the cha-cha with sugar plums,
while tinsel tangles in a wild dance,
a shimmering frenzy of tradition gone rogue.

“Listen!” the log bellows,
“Christmas trees wear crowns of confusion,
their ornaments whispering secrets,
while mistletoe dangles,
a cheeky grin in the doorway —
kissing is optional,
but chaos is mandatory!”