I wrote the annual letter last November,
Watched George and Mary Baily on TV,
Suffered through the biggest storm I can remember,
And in the corner put up this year's tree,
A Fraser Fir triangularly shaped
Sits propped upon a green wrought-iron stand.
The old red sheet around the stand is draped
Where underneath lie presents wrapped by hand.
I beat the kids awake on Christmas morning,
Yet now that they're not kids it's just the same.
Though I'm up at five to give no warning,
There are no gifts to share in Santa's name.
The kids are past that Christmas stuff;
To be at home is gift enough.
--James D. Starkey
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