Happily awaiting the special day,
Were all your troubles just run away.
Waking up on Christmas morn,
Getting new toys, trumpets or horns.
House all decorated, presents under the tree,
Kids all exited, their faces full of glee.
Searching for their names,
If they got movies or games.
Yet, little did they know,
Santa didn't show.
The older ones were so sad,
With a touch of mad.
But the youngest didn't care,
She wouldn't dare.
"Christmas is about family," she said to the boys,
"Not being greedy, or expecting toys."
She went to give her parents a hug,
And gave them a beautiful mug.
"Merry Christmas," she said, eyes so bright,
"You didn't get us anything? That's all right."
"It's the thought that counts," she said, tapping their heads,
"I love you anyway, and I always will," she sang.
Author's Note: In this poem I try to say, please don't be greedy, and
accept that it really is the thought that counts. Merry Christmas to all. And