When a child small, this memory I now share
Sitting in my own front room, snuggled in red chair
My legs are tightly crossed behind, my book of page there blank
My little mind now drifting, my pen I hold in hand
My pages they are filling, with the words of Christmas last
Christmas trees in detail, the turkey, which three days does last
I write about my stocking, hanging on bed end
Waiting there so patiently, Saint Nick my presents sends
I scribble with my story, pictures come alive
There around my written words, snowflakes drawn of white
I draw a little reindeer, a red dot for its nose
Then in glitter my story ends, my memory as now rose
Love, light and healing energies too you all
Tm
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