The Christmas Wrapping Paper Poem by Connie Webb

The day after my mom died
Was Christmas morning
There were so many wonderful gifts
Under our tree.
We opened them peacefully
Mom would have wanted it that way.
She would have wanted
Her grandchildren to have a good Christmas.
I held back my tears
As each gift was opened
And that Christmas is such a blur,
But it is March now
And I still see the tiny patches of paper
In a corner of my dining room
That I carefully ripped from each gift
To look at later
Of all the love we got
That Christmas
Which was hard for me to see then
Through teary eyes.