Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, ‘cept myself and the spouse.
Presents she had, I with pen in hand
I was poised to write a scene so grand.
I thought and I scribbled and stared at the page
though nothing came to me, despite all my rage.
I sighed, stood, and looked at the tree
Here is my present, writers block for me.
I know many writers share in my plight
So, Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night.