It’s late and dad has his slippers and pipe
Mom’s wrapping gifts by the fading firelight.
“You going to help or just sit there all night?”
Before he could answer she hands him his boxes
And he knows better than to put up a fight.
The kids may finally have fallen asleep
But both are listening for the possible creak
Of the stairs, meaning someone is hiding up there.
“Who did we get this for?” mom asks with a smile
Dad shrugs and looks woefully back at his pile
Of packages, wrapping, tissue and bows
Telling himself that if he goes slow
She’ll be done soon, and he could go to his room.
Dad is drawn to the window and whispers aside
“Look! It’s snowing!” She stands and comes to his side.
The Christmas lights twinkling outside in the snow
Remind him of a story from a time long ago.
He turns and takes her into his arms.
“Merry Christmas, my darling. Look, I’ll finish the wrapping
Get us crackers and wine from the cabinet above,
And I’ll tell you a story of a Christmas long past
When we first fell in love.”