A ticket to history?

'Twas the night before Inauguration, and all through D.C,
Not a staffer was stirring, despite the debris;

Our purple tickets were shoved in our pockets with glee,
In hopes that Obama would soon have the key;

The unemployed were sprawled snug on the floor,
While visions of E-day started to soar;

And Katie in her 'kerchief and I in my cap,
Had just settled down for a brief winter's nap;

When out in the hall there arose such a bluster,
I staggered from my bed with all I could muster;

Away to the capitol we trudged in the dark,
No matter the hour it was time to embark;

The crush of the crowds despite the cold winter chill,
Gave us all a historical thrill;

When, what to my wandering feet should appear,
But a huge sea of dems and a looooooong tunnel quite near;

With a line of ticket holders, stretched back a click.
I knew in a moment this wouldn't be quick;

More slowly than sludge that line did move,
And we wrapped up in blankets and thought of ways to improve.

"Mmm, coffee! Mmm, warmth! Mmm beds and breakfast!
Oh, movement! Oh, bama! No cutting right past!

To the Starbucks! To the front of the line!
Now push forward! Push forward! Push forward you swine!"

As the dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,

So up to the purple gate we pushed at half noon,
All with our tickets in hand, a giant platoon.

And then, in a panic, I heard a word like death,
While pushing and struggling for each little breath;

The purple gate was closed, some were turning around,
We moved toward the gate with weary frowns;

We were dressed in dirty blankets, from our heads to our feet,
And our spirits were tarnished with cold and defeat;

A wave of unrest rippled over the crowd,
"Selling purple tickets for cheap!" they hollered aloud.

His eyes - how they must have twinkled! His smile how sparkly, I hear.
His flag pin surely gleamed, his speech may have inspired, even from way in the rear.

Our little group scattered like dandelion spores,
And we gave up on the purple ticket wars;

With tiny radios we broadcast the speech,
And all gathered around to hear it complete;

He stood but a few feet away,
and despite our disappointment we still wouldn't stray;

He was dignified, his manner refined, at home with himself,
And I smiled when I heard him, in spite of myself;

A wave of his hand and a nod of his head,
Now I knew I had nothing to dread;

At the end of the speech we looked around,
And were filled with happiness, despite problems profound;

Pulling our jackets tight against the wind,
We were finally free of the crowds in which we'd been pinned;

We raced back to our beds, to turn on our TVs,
Not wanting to miss the cable banshees,

And I heard him proclaim, through the media review
"All this we can do, and all this we will do!"

The End (thank God)