A CHRISTMAS POEM
By Hannah Appleby-Wineberg
Every year, at seven, on a nippy Christmas Day,
We wake up, run into the room and with excitement say
“Can we please get the stockings, oh please oh please oh please?”
A groan is our reply and then you drift back into sleep.
“Hooray!” we cry, and run downstairs, the tree dressed up in lights
And underneath its skirts bright boxes, greens and reds and whites.
The stockings much too heavy for the mantelpiece to hold
They’re overflowing, but somehow we’ll haul them all, though.
We dump them on the bed, which earns another groan,
Lights are flickered on, which is followed by MORE moans.
Then the un-wrapping can begin, for the kids at least.
The parents are still bleary-eyed, and dreaming of more sleep.
Bit’s of colored paper, flying through the air
Magazines, ribbons, stuffed animals, tossed here and there.
When the stockings are empty, and the parents are awake
We rush downstairs to the presents, past the swirling snowflakes.
Then more opening can begin, the bright wrapped presents now
There’s laughter, hugs, and tears from you, and many screams of: “WOW!”
But this year’s different, the tree is small, and we are far from home
But if you listen closely there’s a message in this poem.
This year I got a present that does not fit in a box.
And it’s not under the tree with a ribbon sat on top.
It’s huge and blue and spherical, and it’s not only for me
This very special present is for my whole family.
It’ll last a lifetime, and I’ll use it every day
It’s a world full of wonder, so I just want to say:
Thank you for this year, the best present of all
I’ve got an earth to travel, and some experiences, big and small
I don’t need lots of toys and books, to make my Christmas bright
You’ve given me so much this year: it’s a good thing memories are light.