It has been a long time since I posted, but I hope to get back to writing more regularly. For now, everything is crazy busy with Christmas on the way, but I wanted to share a poem I wrote this morning. I was looking at our tree and noticing that all the gifts were for the kids.
When I was young, I remember wondering why my brother and I had so many presents and my parents had a tiny pile in the way, way back of the tree. I used to feel bad that they didn’t have much to open, but as an adult, I get it now.
No Presents Under The Tree For Me
There are so many surprises under our tree,
but none of those gifts will be unwrapped by me.
These days Santa always gives me the cold shoulder.
Not because I’m naughty, just because I’m older.
But I still feel the magic when my children are near,
And I cherish every moment because they won’t always be here.
I celebrate each Christmas as if it were the last,
Because I know they will grow up so very fast.
So don’t cry for me,
That I have no presents under the tree.
Because there is no better gift that I could ask for,
than to see the world through the eyes of a child once more.