Poem of the Day
GRANDMA'S HANDS
Gnarled hands full of time
stroke the hair of a child of mine
clean red mud off tiny shoes
wipe away tears for a child of two.
An upturned face, a small voice cries
Grandma, Grandma, oh how I want that.
Then an older one in reply,
answers softly by and by.
Time marches on,
the world goes round
silently, silently,
Grandma's love abounds.
Christmas: When did you stop believing in Santa? To tell you the truth, Santa Clause scared the ba geebies out of me when I was a kid! Around 5 years old, I thought Santa Clause lived upstairs at the local Sears. Now why would I think such a thing? The year before, that's where I went to see him. The whole next year I was afraid to go upstairs in that old Sears building because I just knew Santa was at the top of those stairs. To even go into the store inspired awe in me!
A whole year rolls around and it's getting close to Christmas again. My little brother is running up and down the stairs that lead up to Santa's house. I keep telling him to stop, Santa lives up there, but that only makes him run all the way to the top. His foot is on the last step before he enters Santa's house. I plead with him not to go, but to no avail. Then all the sudden, he turns the landing on the stairs. I'm hot on his heels sure Santa will be standing there to nab him; "when what to my wondering eyes did I find, a room full of appliances with no Santa to see." My eyes scan the room trying to take in the scene before me. Why is there furniture and refrigerators, but no Santa? I look to the spot where I had last seen him. Where is his throne? Where are his Elves? My mind conjures up the Santa scene from last year. I can see him so vividly. Still, no Santa.
"You're stupid," my brother yells.
That's when I stopped believing in Santa.
GRANDMA'S HANDS
Gnarled hands full of time
stroke the hair of a child of mine
clean red mud off tiny shoes
wipe away tears for a child of two.
An upturned face, a small voice cries
Grandma, Grandma, oh how I want that.
Then an older one in reply,
answers softly by and by.
Time marches on,
the world goes round
silently, silently,
Grandma's love abounds.
Christmas: When did you stop believing in Santa? To tell you the truth, Santa Clause scared the ba geebies out of me when I was a kid! Around 5 years old, I thought Santa Clause lived upstairs at the local Sears. Now why would I think such a thing? The year before, that's where I went to see him. The whole next year I was afraid to go upstairs in that old Sears building because I just knew Santa was at the top of those stairs. To even go into the store inspired awe in me!
A whole year rolls around and it's getting close to Christmas again. My little brother is running up and down the stairs that lead up to Santa's house. I keep telling him to stop, Santa lives up there, but that only makes him run all the way to the top. His foot is on the last step before he enters Santa's house. I plead with him not to go, but to no avail. Then all the sudden, he turns the landing on the stairs. I'm hot on his heels sure Santa will be standing there to nab him; "when what to my wondering eyes did I find, a room full of appliances with no Santa to see." My eyes scan the room trying to take in the scene before me. Why is there furniture and refrigerators, but no Santa? I look to the spot where I had last seen him. Where is his throne? Where are his Elves? My mind conjures up the Santa scene from last year. I can see him so vividly. Still, no Santa.
"You're stupid," my brother yells.
That's when I stopped believing in Santa.
posted by Mines Broken @ Friday, December 12, 2003
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