I'm greedy;

     I know it;

          I quite like to show it

And although my dear mum might describe me as seedy

Deep down she just knows that I am very greedy.

 

I give gifts.

     I throw showers

          And knit scarves for flowers that give me a lift every morn

But when I am gone they complain of their thorns.

 

I give hugs.

     I give kisses.

          I pass out good wishes like dollar tree ceramic mugs

Which leave heart-breaking shards on my rugs.

 

I hold parties

     And socials

          That betray the notion that old greedy me might be nice.

So I load up their cocoas with spice.

 

I am greedy.

     I know it.

          I quite like to show it

Though it hardens my nerve ends like ice.

But dear, after this Winter,

     That sounds very nice.