Every Christmas Eve I Think of Her

Born on Christmas Eve mother made her way One of eight children, they named her Holly. She felt she was robbed of a special day Her gift lost in the other kid’s folly. Family would gather, she’d open her gift All waiting for the other holiday. As a young child she was ever so miffed For all she wanted was her own birthday. Then long after I was married and grown To give her a gift on this special day The office would gather on every phone And sing Happy Birthday, so loud and gay! Twenty-six years of Christmas Eves gone by To remember her always makes me cry.