Re-blogging this fab poem by Charlotte Cuevas
Last Christmas was nothing to write home about.
(We didn’t send a camel with any urgent news
because there were no emergencies.)
We didn’t have family in from out of town-
good thing, because there’s never any room
at the inn.
I didn’t get a present last Christmas;
in fact, the taxes were raised and I lost
two extra sheep.
We had a tree but we used it to make a table,
we sang but it was for a funeral march,
we ate but it was the usual fish and bread,
and we prayed and waited, like every year,
for a Savior.
And this Christmas, we got one.