ART & POETRY BY PAUL  KATHY BOECHER©

This final little Santa Claus is on the shorter side,

He has no arms or legs you see, but surely he is wide,

His face is bright, his cheeks are red, his eyes are blue as sky,

His hair and moustache white as snow, he’s such a happy guy,

Each piece of art created by a master carver’s knife,

And given as a Christmas gift to his adoring wife,

I treasure every single one, because they are from him,

Displaying them at Christmas, my heart fills to the brim,

Even though they’re chunks of wood created for my pleasure,

I know that Christmas is much more, than gifts that we treasure,

Old Santa Clause is just a myth, but in this special time,

We hold the baby, Jesus close, the greatest gift sublime,

He is our priceless treasure, we love Him without measure,

He came to be our brother, to love us like no other,

To live a perfect life for us, to take away our guilt,

To go through pain and suffering and by the blood he spilled,

The greatest gift at Christmas time, lies on a bed of hay,

This tiny child has come to us, to take our sins away.