White Lie Christmas Eves our dad would bring Home from the farm real hay For the reindeer that didn’t exist And after we were finally asleep Would go out and take the slabs Up in his arms and carry them Back to the bed of his pickup, Making sure to litter the snow With chaff so he could show us In the morning the place where They’d stood eating, their harness Bells dulled by the cold, their breath Steam, all while we were dreaming.
What a nice angle to look at this. The lengths (we) parents go to...
Merry Christmas
Tender time to think of you and your dad. Thanks.
Merry Christmas!