One Christmas Day by Clara Mitchell

I like to gather trinkets all in a line--

Row after row.

A chorus of cherubs with six sounding trumpets,

Rolling out from a gift box,

And into the palm of my hand.

I could see the dance of music.

I caught a glimpse of pink and colors like cotton candy--

The colors held a carousel of Angels.

I gave a gentle push to the lead Angel.

The harps began to play.

The Angel's wings took flight moving the

Carousel round and round.

I too, went round and round as if I had wings.

I was unable to stop falling into my Christmas tree--

The branches broke my fall.

There were many tiers of Angel hair.

Beneath the tree's frosted needles,

I saw Mary and Joseph kneeling next to me.

Moving as close as I could,

I was able to kneel,

In hopes that the Child that lay

Could hear my carousel of Angels play.

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