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Rated: E · Poetry · Children's · #2177728
Sometimes it is the smallest...

Santa's Last Gift

He thought his bag was empty when he flung it in his sleigh,
but the gift-o-meter started pinging as towards home was on his way.
One hand on the reins, he reached down into his pack,
fumbled down through folds and emptiness to the bottom of his sack.
His hand came forth with one last gift: how could there be one left?
Eyebrows knotted, he was in dismay, and, oddly, felt bereft.

He knew he hadn't missed a child, regardless of their age
and yet he had this silver box with bow of deepest sage.
It didn't feel too heavy, and yet, it wasn't light.
Santa racked his memory, he had no clue this night.
Page 1 in 'The Santa Rules:' he had to give it out.
This had never happened before, Santa knew without a doubt.

The sky was getting brighter, soon the sun would rise
and once it did our Santa could not be in the skies.
The magic only worked til dawn; he was running out of time.
He had to have the reindeer back before they couldn't fly.
He keep thinking on the problem, a solution he did seek,
a tear ran down his jolly face, and plopped down on the seat.

He landed at the North Pole; it was sunrise at lower latitudes;
he was confused and worried; just didn't know what to do.
Mrs. Clause came out to greet him, all smiles, wide awake--
'Dearest Santa, you look so sad, as if your heart would break.'
Santa shook his head and beard, held out the gift--'but I'm not done.
I shouldn't have any presents left, did I miss someone?'

Mrs. Clause shook her head, her face all merry and bright,
'Everything is fine, my dear. Indeed, exactly right!
Did you happen to notice there's a tag? As you haven't read it, do!
You had one last present in your bag because it's from me to you.
For all these years you've given gifts to people wide and far
and never gotten one in return; I decided to raise the bar!

It isn't much; tis the thought that counts--
made with leftover pieces in varying amounts.
A bit of sparkle and ever-glue, lots of shiney stuff,
some paint, some glitter, a ribbon or two, but it all was just enough.
For all you've done, for all you are
I thought you should have your own gold star.'

Santa opened up the package, it was beaming light,
he lifted off the box lid, saw something gleaming bright.
The simple felt and cardboard star she'd fashion with pure love
rose up from that very last box, rose to the skies above.
'But, but it was just made out of cardboard--what can have happened here?'
'Christmas Magic, my precious love, full of love and cheer!'

They stood there in the courtyard of the grandest place on earth,
stood there together watching with hearts full of glee and mirth.
'It's simply amazing, my dear, what wonders we behold
when gifts are given with simple love, and m'dear, if truth be told--
l wish more folks would realize that giving love is better than any toy--
but until they do, we'll still be here for every girl and boy.'

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