The Sunday before Christmas and all through the house,
The children are bouncing all over the couch.
The presents were wrapped with some noticable tears,
By the kids in hopes to see what will be theirs.
The tree had fallen, and still laid on its back,
It’s Christmastime, so there’s no use giving flack.
Daddy in jammies, and I on his lap,
We had just settled down for a long night cap.
When out in the garden I could see a body,
I strang from his lap nearly spilling my toddy.
I tripped over the tree creating a clatter,
No harm to me, but many ornaments did shatter.
Nose pressed to the window, and squinting to see,
I saw a lady walking away with a tree.
Not understanding at all what I just saw,
I decided to ignore this women’s shortfall.
At Christmastime we plan, and prepared,
Barely acknowledging those in despair.
In our world, where we are rich in family life,
I’m saddened by others, who have other plights.
I come back to Daddy, who is righting the tree,
Asking if the noise woke our little three.
Up the stairs we climb for a peek,
We find our little angels snoring asleep.
We stare at each other with amazement and wonder,
At the gifts God gave us, but we no longer ponder.
Children have made our own world complete,
But we always liked it best, when they are fast asleep.
Merry Christmas to all, and to all good sleeps!
Follow Helen on Facebook