Whose Birthday Is
My home is like a wonderland; it glistens everywhere.
The Frazer fir tree’s ornaments were placed there with great care.
The wood fire sparkles brightly from the logs just newly turned,
The screen was placed securely so the children won’t get burned.
Bright wreaths are placed upon the walls where pictures once had been
Our home has not looked this good since I can’t remember when.
The centerpiece with flowers and with candles burning bright
Lends just a touch of elegance to everything tonight.
A table holds the Santas that I’d painted long ago.
One sled I painted of a boy while trudging through the snow.
I’d painted wooden eggs that showed a happy Santa face;
One piece showed Mrs. Santa all dolled up in pretty lace.
The gifts were placed around the tree; the toys were packed inside.
There’re trucks for boys and for a girl, a doll dressed like a bride.
Each box was topped with bows and ribbons, quite a sight to see.
As Johnny looked them over, asking, “Is this one for me?”
But suddenly I looked around, and something seemed to say,
“You’re having quite a party! Is this special in some way?”
I hung my head in shame for what I saw just gave me pause.
It seemed my house was saying, “Happy Birthday, Santa Claus!”
The manger scene is coming out, the angels and the rest.
We’ll celebrate this Christmas in the way we know is best!
The carols we’ll be singing, “Hark, the Herald Angels Sing!”
We’ll have a birthday party, “Glory to the Newborn King.”
Mariane Holbrook is a retired teacher, an author of two books,
a musician and artist. She lives with her husband on coastal
North Carolina. She maintains a personal website
http://www.marianholbrook.com and welcomes your Emails at