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