Max’s Last Christmas When I was young and knew not much And could not call myself devout as such I liked to sneak downstairs each Christmas Eve night And see if that Old Saint Nick just might Pop in for a late night snack So I could take a peek inside that famed red sack. Of course he usually did not come Until the year I turned ninety-one. And since the years were on me then When first I spied that rosy chin I though I might have double vision But knew as quick by his precision That indeed after all those years Old Saint Nick was finally here. Back I fell in expectant awe From what then my widened eyes saw: A flash of crimson, fast as light And then the man was out of sight But in his place there sat a bag, Embroidered, bejeweled and sporting a tag. I looked around in disbelief Wavering there just like a thief, And thought my moment with Saint Nick was dead Until I pulled the tag and read: “I am sorry, Max, for all these years! I am sorry for all of your tears That I have made you cry When every Christmas I did not come by. You see, Max, there are so many homes. The names and addresses fill up tomes. But somehow I must have missed your call. So, I hope this sack makes up for them all” And when Max was done and in joy basked Inside was everything for which he had ever asked: A toy horse, a puppy dog, a real electric train, A baseball glove and baseball bat, a model flying plane. All was there from the ninety years he had been Waiting for Old Saint Nick to stop and come on in. Now I know that all the dreams you dream come true. From me and Saint Nick, Merry Christmas to you!
Posted on: Thu, 25 Dec 2014 22:16:45 +0000