The Holdiay Gift
Open eyes –
Speeding heart –
That's what most kids feel –
– but when alone for the holidays
There are no hopes to spark some zeal.
It's been like this every year
Or so he can remember –
For on Christmas day there is no cheer –
It's just cold, dreary December.
"Get up!" she yells – raps on the door
"I'm up!" he yells. "Say no more!"
So little Harry climbs out of bed.
Or out of the cupboard –
His feet like lead
But out they led rest assured –
Presents? He sighs.
Probably not.
But wait –
There's one –
Under that tree.
Eyes his wide that sought –
He squints from afar
The tag must be wrong.
For it says Harry –
It's seven feet long.
The boy is so quiet
As he looks at the gift –
They leave the room
For only a moment –
Rrrrriiiip
It's open in no time
He hurries in haste
A broom?
For cleaning?
What a waste.
Sighs sadden his spirit
He looks at the gift –
But it could be magic.
Right?
The Dursleys are scarce
– no sign of a whisper.
Race outside, fast
Ouch. Wet. Cold. Snow.
Ignore it –
Swing leg over –
Push off the ground
Into the sky.
This boy can fly.
He soars and he smiles
Be to born the bird –
Just glide –
Don't think –
Soar.
But shake
He's off
Falling
down
to
the
ground
A sharp, "Get up!"
She raps on the door.
Harry groans.
A dream –
Too good to be true.
Later –
His face seemed too cold – though –
His fingers – too.
He looked down to see a small cut.
A splinter –
From wood.
This had a really cool layout, but this website doesn't allow it :( It had stanzas and neat spaces and everything. Aw, well...
I wrote this in 20 minutes just because it's a special day called December 25th.
Merry Christmas!
