With hands worn
From years of hard work,
Yet tendered with
Patience and care,
He gently fashioned the round
Christmas wreath while sitting
In his favorite wooden chair
Sometimes adding more
Pinecones, a special bend of
The twine, or a sprig of the
Freshest green mint, he often
Reminded me of St. Nicholas himself,
With his eyes full of a mischievous glint
"It's done!" he'd exclaim,
Holding it high, "Number One!"
Excitedly shouting out loud,
Just as though some small victory
Had finally been won, with a
Smile on his face, oh so proud!
As a child I always knew from
The depths of my heart,
When I first heard those
Few words being sung that the
Magical holiday season was here
And had at last, officially begun
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