A True Christmas Story
A tale was told one Christmas eve,
tis' better to give than to receive.
But I have no gift, my pockets bare,
I am but a poet, my poem I'll share.
I rose from my bed on Christmas Day;
the sun was peeking down where I lay.
I crept down the stairs so I could see,
had Santa left gifts under my tree?
I wasn't surprised, left unamazed,
I stood at my empty tree and gazed.
No gifts to give, my heart did ache,
but I would go on for Christmas' sake.
I threw on my clothes, rushed out the door;
just what is all this excitement for?
I have no gifts to give to thee;
no presents were left beneath my tree.
So how can Christmas be happy and gay?
What is the secret that makes this day?
I swung open the door, to my surprise,
my family was sitting before my eyes.
Greetings exchanged, hugs of embrace,
smiles that lit the entire place.
"We're glad you're here, accept this gift,
maybe then your spirits will lift."
I saw in their eyes a special glow,
that sunk my heart, and let me know,
that they were giving with deepest love,
for God had signaled from above.
The spirit of Christmas is a radiant gleam,
that shines through the soul, in a warming beam.
I have felt that warmth throughout the year,
by spreading laughter, joy, and cheer.
But a chosen day was set aside,
for all of our arms to open wide.
So the gift I give has no ribbons or bows,
I'll give you peace that warms and glows.
I'll tell you I love you, I'll make you smile,
I'll see that your visit was worth the while.
I returned to my house, I plugged in my tree,
there sat a star gazing down at me.
I looked at the star with wondrous sight,
for God had appeared that Christmas night.
I was given the secret of Christmas Eve,
tis' better to give, than to receive.