The magic of Christmas comes once every year;
how sad that I miss it with family so dear.
I have siblings who live all across the U.S.,
and wish they could come and make merry with us.
With my Mother and Father no longer around,
the magic of Christmas just cannot be found.
For so many years I would put up a tree
with decorative ornaments, each a sweet memory:
the red Santa astronaut I bought in the sixties,
the Crayola sled and the cute little pixies.
I’ve given them all to my grandkids to keep
so they can enjoy all the memories so sweet.
Now the tree in my home is shorter in height,
with a few colored balls and one string of lights.
There’s no stockings hung by the chimney with care,
'cause it's doubtful St. Nick would make it down there.
But that empty nest feeling is replaced with good cheer,
'cause the magic of Christmas comes once every year.
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