
Thirteen children, thirteen gifts
Thirteen bootprints in snow drifts
On a mission with their loot
Dressed in matching velvet suits
Where they’re heading, so determined
In their red hats lined with ermine
In a straight line one by one
Unseen cord between them strung
Trudging tramping never slowing
Still we wonder where they’re going
Babes in woods, steadfast in task
But what that is? Who’s first to ask?
On snowy night, in dim moon’s glow
With curiosity I watch them go
I doubt I’ll ever know their story
Perhaps they’re naught but allegory
Thirteen lives in cold December
Thirteen signs so we remember
Every day is gift worth giving
Conferred to those no longer living
Let their treasured memories
Stir in our hearts a pensive peace
The gifts they may not open yet
Bring mind to those we shan’t forget…
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