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This poem is simply
meant to be
a stocking stuffer,
for, you see,
you didn’t buy our
socks in time
for me to buy you
things that rhyme.
The gifts for kids
took all my cash,
there wasn’t the
means to build your stash
of baubles and
trinkets with great care,
I’m sorry you
didn’t get your share.
But in your
Christmas Sock this year
beats a heart that
beats with cheer,
a heart that beats
with yours each night,
and thanks God for
such great delight.
Your sock holds no
tangible thing,
but wait to see
what next year brings,
a year of hopes and
prayers and dreams,
I trust the Lord,
He’ll bring in reams.
Then come next
Christmas Eve and Day,
we will look back
in awe and say:
Your empty
sock was filled with hope –
and with this
poem from your dear dope.
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