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The tree is aglow with reflection and light.
It brightens the mood and casts out the night.
It smells of the forest with needles so green,
of mountains and meadows and places between.
The children, they play in the snow with a sled.
Their cheeks are all rosy with winter’s nip red.
They dash about happy with snowballs a’flying
Breathless they tumble without any crying.
The stars they are twinkling up high in the sky,
while I’m drinking eggnog as Yule sparkles fly.
My socks are so toasty I think they might burn,
so I pick up the poker and make the log turn.
The gander is roasting with dressing inside,
and the kitchen is filled with a connoisseur’s pride.
The whole family chatters as they take seat,
and Grandfather prays before we will eat.
Christmas is beauty with kindness and joy,
and not about wanting some plastic toy.
It’s not about money, avarice, or greed,
but rather compassion and love others need.
M. Andrew Sprong's Weblog
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|Reviewed by Kitty O'Malley (Reader)
|This brings to mind a special place living deep in my memories. It takes me back to a night oh so long ago but it makes it feel like yesterday. Thank You Mr. Sprong. Once again, you amaze me with your talent.|
|Reviewed by TONY NERONE
|Excellent writing of old time Christmas with the family. Great job!!
|Reviewed by Annabel Sheila
|Oh! I so agree with every word of your beautiful write, Andrew. You have described a perfect Christmas!!!! Thanks so much for sharing those moments. Loved it!