Thursday, December 8, 2011

Batteries Included
Once upon a Christmas dreary
while I pondered, weak and weary,
what bolt to fasten to what nut
or gizmo with a gadget put-
instructions scattered everywhere
my troubled fingers filled with care
for Santa Claus must come that night
his inept “elf” was filled with fright
that nothing that he did was right.
Then all at once I heard a tapping
as of someone gently rapping,
rapping at my kitchen door.
It’s but a trance I surely felt
like sun on snowflakes, it would melt,
but continued sounding without pause
begging me to cease my cause
and from my labors go and seek
the tapping noise and grab a peek
at whom was knocking on my door
at such an hour when many snore,
or wait with senses that do hum
expecting Christmas soon to come.
Could it be Santa at my door
with toy pieces on my floor?
Alas, it was not the jolly elf
but my neighbor all by himself.
An older and a wiser friend
he offered me a twinkling grin. . .
a paper sack he handed me
which was fraught with mystery:
“Been there done that,” he smiling said
“Batteries not included. . .
finish up and go to bed.”
“Merry Christmas, Ho! Ho! Ho!”
into the blowing snow he did go.
On memories such do I now dwell
like stars they gently cast their spell
of loving gestures given with care
by those who loved and did not spare
gifts transcending words of grace
with acts of kindness held fast in place.
These Christmas feelings still enthrall
and bind me back with memory’s call,
so even now my heart oer’flows
as tinsel in the firelight glows.
Santa comes despite ourselves
and fills our life worn, barren shelves
with batteries new which tend the soul-
Christmas comes to make us whole.
Phil Leftwich
Christmas 2011