They don't make
Christmas anymore,
Like it was
years ago...
With rosy cheeks
and sparkling eyes,
And sleigh bells
in the snow.
When Christmas
Eve was a big night,
That's when we
decorated...
The tree went
up, the stockings hung,
We laughed and
speculated.
Would Santa hear
our heart's desire,
Know what we
wanted most?
And would we
catch a glimpse of him,
Or learn he was
a ghost?
Christmas
morning brought the smells,
Of cuisine that
was baking...
A time
for seeing dreams come true,
A long time in
their making.
Christmas brought all of the
sights,
Along with worry
too...
For misdeeds
that we each had done,
Old Santa always
knew.
Yet when the
time for gift exchange,
Had finally
arrived...
A present with
our name on it,
Meant that we
had survived!
© Loree (Mason) O'Neil
12/14/08
