Poetry for a Christmas Eve Monday

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