Twas the barest wee knock on the old lady’s front door.
Agatha Agnes made her way, slow, from the divan to answer.
Things this past year for her had left her tired and sore:
Bisquick Cat had been ill, while her Bob finally passed from cancer.
Peering from her peephole Agatha Agnes could just see
The head of her little girl neighbor with her new winter bonnet;
And couldn’t help but wonder what new evil this could be.
Patiently, the little neighbor held a box with a big green bow on it.
Agatha Agnes pulled slowly open her door of oaken ebony
And said to the little girl struggling with the mighty box:
“Leslie Katherine, what on earth have you brought to me!”
The little girl then blushed hot crimson from bonnet to her socks.
“Murry Chwistmus,” tried Leslie Katherine, offering up the bundle.
“Why, thank you,” answered Agatha Agnes, taking the box in hand.
Finally freed, Leslie Katherine bolted the porch skipping off in a trundle.
Agatha Agnes slowly went back inside to see about this present too grand.
Back in the divan, our old lady went to pull off the grand green bow,
Then pulled apart the plain white paper on the box, and opened the flaps:
Lifted out from the packing peanuts a large silver frame made a show—
An old black and white portrait of Agatha Agnes next to her Bob in his riding chaps!
Later Agatha Agnes would learn the story how this last Christmas present came to be:
Bob realized his cancer would soon win and wanted to surprise his bonny bride.
So, retrieving the silver frame with his old college degree inside from U of Mississippi—
He took her favorite picture of them happy and young, in love, and slid that inside.
Bob had met with the neighbors and asked Leslie Katherine for a special boon:
To present the box to Mrs. Jefferson, at her convenience, on Christmas Day.
The Cabbotts readily agreed, even though it was an early hot, summer June.
But they remembered; and after lunch, Leslie Katherine had made her careful way.
Real Love is timeless, despite those events that cause breath-catching with maybe a spilt tear.
Cherish all your loved ones, be passed or present: Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!
Twas a middlin-old red two-wheeler
Pulled from the rummage out back there.
You could see the old leather seat
Had been handled with tender loving care.
Bike had been in a scrape or two:
Tires were cruising at half-past flat,
But the chrome was still mighty shiny—
Bike’d still fly like an old alley cat.
So, they took the old darling home
After fixing it up with those holiday deals.
But the bike was for Christmas for the daughter;
So they added me, some brand-new training wheels.
At last, I could do my bicy-mentoring thing:
Extra wheels to keep daughter on track,
The new kid steering the handle bars up front;
Me providing balance and support from the back.
Twas finally the night before Christmas,
Me and bike waiting in the garage:
Nervous about meeting our new girl owner,
Sort of sure we were better’n decoupage!
Next morning the garage door flew open.
Such a commotion as you never did hear:
Her joyous shriek shook loose some snow
That fell along with Daddy’s one tear.
“Oh, Daddy, she’s perfect!”
So, out to the street we rumbled,
Me and Bike balancing, as well you’d know.
The girl then pedaled out of Daddy’s grasp,
Yelling: “Come on, bike, LET’S GO!”