Wonderful.

Old sandle.
Why can't I let you rest.
Your comfort is so delicate.
Akin to my shoddy vest.
You strap yourself to me.
Sometimes just to jest.
I don't need a replacement.
But the universe knows best.
I fixed you everyday.
But your needs grow more and more.
You are the Christmas son.
Offering more and more.
You brought us the Christmas Angel.
Hero of the sunlights.
They called him an Arch Angel,
I'm concerned I don't know why.
I hope that every angel,
understands my aim
as the arrow of sweet cupid
makes Gabriel fair game.
And dreams of thanks run
through my childish Christmas brain.
How wonderful and how well?
My family heaven knows by name,
as the dream of flying angels
on fields of grasses glow
Through mountainsides and yonder
To soul stars of orange golden glow
Facing baby Jesus almost fully grown
His wisdom more adored
any simple master could hoe.
Every sinner he reaps
The legion of the dead.
As his poor blood seeps
Until his rest was said.
And wonderful surrounded by angels
and by God.
In perfect imperfection of perfections imperfect love.
To be fixed again by God
his task never failing.
You motivate my love
The love that I am sending.