--- The Christmas Poems ---

---The Christmas Poems---

Santa Is Watching You!

I'm sitting on a bench in the middle of the mall,
eating a soft pretzel slathered with mustard,
a cheery Christmas mood set by the decorations and all,
except for one 4-year-old boy making his mother flustered.

Whining and arguing, he's raising a real commotion --
seems he's demanding immediately cookies and a Coke.
His developing temper tantrum filling her face with emotion,
his mother talks softly, but, pulling away, he pays her no note.

In exasperation, she gives up and goes to buy him his treat.
He, suddenly all smiles, prances over to sit down beside me.
A more self-satisfied spoiled brat I never before did meet!
He's used to bullying his mother, very plainly one can see.

Now I've been told I and Santa Claus look very much alike --
both handsome, with white hair and beard, a belly so jellyful.
This boy deserving the lesson, I figure him I could psych --
on him I decide a small, harmless deception I will pull.

He looks at me, a flash of recognition appearing in his eyes.
"That's right. I'm Santa Claus, and I've been watching you.
I only bring toys to a child who acts nice and always tries
to mind his parents. My bringing you presents would never do!"

A look of concern and growing panic told me he understood.
"Of course, you can begin acting nice and get back on my list."
I smiled and walked away, wondering if he'd now try to do good,
and, if so, for just how long his improved behavior would persist.


The Gift Of Christmas

Each year I recall a poignant memory when Christmas draws near.
Being at a hospital for surgery is key to this memory that I hold dear.
Late January years ago my daughter had corrective surgery on her big toe.
In the waiting room the family of one man was overfilling it so.

The outcome from a dangerous operation on his brain was due soon.
Worry hung over that family group like the black cloud in a cartoon.
My wife and I could not help but overhear their conversation.
"Daddy sure enjoyed Christmas this year; he was so happy, so full of animation."

His wife said simply "Your daddy wanted Christmas joyous for all to remember."
The surgeon appeared. As he talked, I watched the face of each family member.
Suddenly screams of anguish arose, accompanied by much weeping.
The oldest son led his mother away, she her composure regally keeping.

The news had been the worst; the man had died on the surgical table.
One daughter said hotly "Maybe the surgeons would have been able
to safely remove the tumor back in December. Mother should
have insisted upon the operation back then!" The oldest daughter stood

telling the group "Daddy knew his tumor was too large, the outcome
would likely be this dismal. He and Mother did argue over it some,
but Daddy insisted we all should have one last happy Christmas together.
You all saw how he did relish this one so; he knew he'd never see another.

He refused a December operation, saying he would never allow
the anniversary of his death to dampen all future Christmases somehow.
Better for him to die in January! Keeping our Christmas happy
was Daddy's last gift that he insisted he be allowed to give his family."



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