ORIGINAL CARVINGS BY PAUL BOECHER©POETRY BY KATHY BOECHER

Adorning the fireplace mantel, which we no longer own,

We placed these carved wooden Santas, tradition man had sown,

Each detail he gently mastered, with tender loving care,

To add joy to the holiday,  a treasured gift to share,

Some Christmases were not happy, some filled with pain and loss,

When homemade gifts replaced the new, but still at a great cost,

The love that went in those carvings, each chiseled deeply in,

Reminds us still of talents shared, with each returning grin,

Our new old house has no mantel, to display them as we could,

The Santas are inanimate, and simply made of wood,

The treasured gift of Christmas Eve, a precious, perfect life,

Was born in deepest poverty,  to take away all strife,

A babe in a lowly manger, asleep upon the hay,

Who knew that this newborn baby would take our sins away,

He lived a life that was perfect, yet died upon a tree,

Gave up His life so I might live, unshackled and set free,

He conquered death on Easter morn,  He rose to life more,

He gave that gift to everyone, and opens heaven’s door.