Here is a little holiday poem, with a little St. Louis Blues twist.
Twas the night before Bluesmas and all through the league
Not a fan was stirring, not even Mr. Low, aka Reed;
The skates were hung by the lockers with care,
In hopes that sharpener soon would be there;
The children were nestled all snug in their beds;
While visions of Stanley Cups danced in their heads;
The triplets all settled, so Petro the cap,
Could finally settle down for a long winter’s nap,
When out in the land there arose such a clatter,
I sprang to my laptop to see what was the matter.