The Christmas Present by Billy M Smallwood

I heard a knock on my door one Christmas Eve;
as I looked out my window, a man I could see;
he was cold and seemed so lonely and upon a bended knee.
He asked, "Can you spare anything for me to eat . . . ?"
I opened up the door and as I helped him in,
he looked up at me with such a peaceful grin.
As he drank down some coffee and had a bite to eat,
I put more wood on the fire so he could warm his feet. . . .
Over there by the fireplace he warmed his tired hands.
I wonder where did he come from, this quiet, white haired man?
But I wasn't at all afraid of his peaceful ways, you see,
this man dressed in poor, almost as poor as me. . . .
As he left, he turned and thanked me for all I had done,
but he forgot to take his gloves, so out the door I run.
He was gone in the blizzard and I couldn't hardly see,
so I took his ole gloves back to the house with me. . . .
Just a little after midnight, I awoke in the dark;
there wasn't a bit of fire, just glowing cinders�a little spark,
and where I'd placed his gloves by my little Christmas tree,
there laid a brand new pair, and a Christmas Card for me.
And it read. . . .

You gave me shelter and food to keep me warm;
you even tried to bring me my old gloves in the storm,
so here's you a new pair,. . . the finest ever seen . . .

As an angel of the Lord,
I'll be sure to tell the King. . . .

Merry Christmas . . .

Copyright �. Billy M Smallwood. All rights reserved. No part of this text may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, in any form, or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the author.