POEM: Sharing a family treasure

Here is a poem I wrote for my sons years ago when they were very small. They always loved it. It was about going to my grandmother and grandfather's house at Christmastime. It was during the Depression years. We didn't have a Christmas tree or presents, so my grandparents' was a magical place for me. My sons enjoyed this poem. Maybe others might, too.

Merry Christmas,

GLORIA VONBERG

Coeur d'Alene

Memories of Christmas Past

A wreath of green with candle glows,

Upon this door my memory holds.

A special place that's sheer delight,

To all burst forth on Christmas night.

With sparkling eyes, a tiny hand,

I opened this door to my wonderland.

Draped ropes of red and green are held,

Like years before, with bright red bells.

There's mistletoe, tinsel and holly,

A Santa Claus doll all fat and jolly.

And best of all the Christmas tree,

It's eight feet tall, I'm only three.

A beauty of shimmering, twinkling light,

Reflects in my eyes and heart alike.

All this, so special and so dear,

Grandma, Grandpa, I'm finally here!

- Gloria Vonberg, 1958