Storytelling: Christmas Memories (Week 14)

Early in the morning, 
up to see the sun.
Down the stairs and through the den,
to see who may have come. 

photo credit (mom's christmas present!)

There stops the little girl, 
no older than three.
Her big brown eyes
gaze wondrously at the tree.

With sparkles and orbs,
of sweet memories of delight,
Little does she know
of the pre-Christmas night. 

With joy so sweet and innocent,
that only one so young could hold,
She runs to her new toys,
though, never forgetting the old. 

With a curious grin, 
she looks through her stocking. 
So many small fascinations,
oh, how Santa must be cunning.

How could he know?
That such little things
could be so much fun,
and the joy they could bring!

Wait, something is missing!
But, what could it be?
Toys, tree, stocking...
Mommy!

With no time to spare,
to her feet she goes.
Back up the stairs,
a room she very well knows.

Rushing down the hall,
slowing just before the door,
She nudges the door open,
giving her mother only a few moments poor.

Tired and weary
from playing Santa all night.
The Mother sleeps solidly,
until a giggling little girl gives her a fright.

With a sigh and a smile, 
and a loving hug and kiss, 
She is called to her duty,
no moments will she miss. 

Back in the den,
a sleepy mother by her side,
Good morning kisses to Grandma and Grandpa,
And new bike for her to learn to ride.

Oh, what great gifts,
what happiness and fun!
But what do they matter,
when it's all said and done?

When bows blow away,
wrapping paper is all torn.
Gifts gone in the past,
clothes no longer worn. 

What are we left with,
but sweet memories?
Big, happy smiles,
and fading Christmas trees. 

Never one Christmas, 
no, not one,
was boring or empty.
Oh, they were so much fun!

Though no longer that small little girl,
Christmas can still bring me joy.
But it isn't complete without mom,
no matter how many toys. 

So, to keep you protected,
and to know you're always loved, 
Carry with you an open heart, 
and sweet angel's wings from above. 

Long after things are all gone, 
memories are all we have. 
So think of GG, Grandma,
Grandpa my hero, your dad.

Most of all,
my amazing Mommy,
think of the sweet Christmas memories we've had,
and, of course, don't forget about me!

__________________________________

So this poem is exactly four hundred words. Lucky me! I was really running out of words towards the end and I like it just the way it is. Well, sort of. To be honest there are some parts that are pretty rough and I wish it this read a little more smoothly. Still, this one is pretty personal. It's for my mother. This will be my first Christmas without her and it's going to be really tough. 

I wrote a poem this week because I read the La Fontaine version of Aesop's tales. I really liked reading the stories is poetic verse and wanted to give writing a poem a try. I used to write poetry all the time but I never shared it with anyone. This is the only poem I've ever shared, first with my mom, and then with all of you. Hopefully, it's not too bad.

Fables in Rhyme for Little Folks by W. T. Larned and illustrated by John Rae (1918).