T’was the tenth day of December
And the one-year-old crawled on a chair,
Curious as to the pretty plant,
Sitting on the table there.

Pulling herself to the edge,
She reached, if per adventure,
Her hand might brush the pretty leaves –
But she failed in her venture.

So, pushing up just once more,
Her hand, it caught just barely,
Her fingers closed on the branch –
And snapped it off quite squarely!

Now, there’s still some branches left,
But one is entirely gone.
It sits, instead, in a cup of water
To see how long it will continue on.

So, the lesson learned from today?
If you don’t want a plant explored,
Move it away from the little hands –
Or smile when curiosity knocks at their door.

To the KING be all the glory!

T’was the ninth of December
And I honestly couldn’t think,
Of a single rhyme to write,
That didn’t make me blink.

All the rhymes I thought of,
Were silly at their best.
Head shaking worthy at their worst –
Not one could pass the test!

So, here’s my contribution,
To this night of mournful lack.
‘Tis short and strange – but it rhymes –
And off to bed, I’m going to pack.

Hopefully tomorrow will see,
My brain’s computer going again.
But for now, this is all I have…
So, good-night and farewell until then!

To the KING be all the glory!

T’was the eighth day of December
And the children, each with glee,
Went about crafting candy canes
With which to decorate the tree.

The colors were many and mixed,
Each cane had a unique flair,
And all were twisted and shaped,
With much excitement and care.

Then one, with an idea so bright,
Began folding and cutting some paper,
Creating two doves without flight,
To nest in the tree and delight her.

Now the tree sparkles and twinkles,
The lights playing at hide and seek.
And the children’s smiles grow wider,
Whenever they just take a peek.

To the KING be all the glory!

T’was the seventh day of December,
And the day had come for a tree!
So a tree of six-feet entered the house,
With a strand of lights for all to see.

First, the box was opened,
Then the pieces quickly removed,
The tree was built, branches fluffed,
A joyous occasion it proved!

Next, the strand of lights,
Was draped around the branches.
Then the cord met the plug…
And it died – what were the chances?

After a bit of fiddling around,
The lights came back on quite strong,
The tree was placed in a corner home,
Looking like it had always belonged.

Then, sparkling across the living room,
The lights did their dances together.
Leaping from floor, to ceiling, to couch,
But brought back to the tree like a tether.

The children’s smiles were a delight,
Their cheers would warm the heart.
So happy I was to be able to be here,
And in their excitement, take my part.

To the KING be all the glory

T’was the sixth day of December
And this time, better I fared!
For I cut out quite a few flakes,
And hadn’t once erred.

‘Till at last, the hour grew late,
And I was by far ready to sleep.
So I bundled up the crafted paper,
For the morning’s light to keep.

To the KING be all the glory!