By Cynthia Sheridan
The thing about Christmas, the thing I love most
It isn’t the stuffing, the turkey or roast
It’s not Christmas cookies, although I agree
Such seasonal sweets are a reason for glee
It could be the music, with carolers singing
Shiny brass trumpets, and silver bells ringing
Of course there are presents- exciting to open
Especially the one that is what you were hopin’
I love all the cards that show up in the mail
Year after year, they come without fail
Not to mention the lights! How they twinkle and glow
On storefronts and rooftops, wherever you go
But the thing about Christmas (and here my poem ends)
Yes, the very best thing … is to share it with friends.
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