In The Way Of Christmas Poem by Anne Lunar

Crystal balls every where
They're shining, people glance
Gentle music every where
Kids will hop & laugh & dance
They remind me of your smile
Of your lovely little hand
Way of pleading for a toy
Cries that no one could stand
I remember when you begged
For a worthless cheap toy
I declined to buy that thing
Made from wood, a puppet boy
It’s too late, but I do buy
Wooden toy which is the best
I will put it on your grave
In the way of Christmas