The Wreath
Some greenery with a big red bow
Your only gift this year.
I fasten it to frozen ground
And wipe a wayward tear.
I can't but think of other times
When there was Christmas joy
As I carefully selected
Some nice gifts for my boy.
And then as you grew older, Son,
You were so very tall
I bought your shirts with longer sleeves,
But you outgrew them all.
No shop in town for Big and Tall
I had to send away
To have a perfect fit for you
To open Christmas Day.
But you were not the sort of lad
To ask for lots of stuff.
Laying your wreath, I hear you say,
"Don't cry, Mom. It's enough."
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