Puppies' Christmas

It's the day before Christmas

And all through the house

The puppies are squeaking

An old rubber mouse.

The wreath which had merrily

Hung on the door

Is scattered in pieces

All over the floor.

The stockings that hung

In a neat little row

Now boast a hole in

Each one of the toes.

The tree was subjected

To bright-eyed whims,

And now, although splendid,

It's missing some limbs.

I catch them and hold them.

"Be good", I insist.

They lick me, then run off

To see what they've missed.

And now as I watch them

The thought comes to me,

That their's is the spirit

That Christmas should be.

Should children and puppies

Yet show us the way,

And teach us the joy

That should come with this day?

Could they bring the message

That's written above,

And tell us that, most of all

Christmas is love.