Joyous Noel.
This is somewhere between narrative prose and unrhymed poetry, and is for the older among us who are still kids at heart.
Hope you enjoy.
The Stocking
In the beginning
A stocking was left
For Santa to fill
It might have been small, but it grew in the night
Able to take on candies, fruits and toys
And no matter where I left it
It was always on the foot of my bed
First thing Christmas morning
Then came the day Santa stopped leaving the stocking on my bed
The stocking I left was still empty on Christmas morning
But the gifts that filled the stocking before
Were now under the tree
While I was disappointed, I was also proud
For I realized Santa was treating me more like a grownup
And outgrowing the need for such a childish tradition
Years have passed and the family that hung their stockings
alongside mine
Have moved on to new families and lives
We speak of Christmases past, of trees and gifts and dinners
Of the joy of being together then
The sadness at the loss of some
And the happiness that is the holiday now
And on the night before Christmas
As I have done every year
A stocking is still left
For Santa to fill
For I never outgrew that childish tradition
And to some, there might seem to be nothing in it come
Christmas morning
But for me, it is always filled to the rim
With memories and the joy of the holiday season
© 2018 Lauren Swartzmiller
