The Two Wheeler


It's red.
It was supposed to be green.
Will he notice?
Will he care?
Why did I remember now?

I know he told Santa, green.
It's too late now.
He's so sleepy.
Will he notice?
Will he care?

There by the tree
The two wheeler sits.
He won't miss it.
The bright red
Contrasts those green boughs.

It shines out its invitation.
It sparkles.
It gleams.
Certainly the fantasy
Of a five year old's dreams.

I see it now,
The light in his eyes.
He tries to hurry down the steps.
His face all aglow,
With the look of surprise.

Quick as a flash,
He mounts the two wheeled wonder.
All control is gone.
This is the best Christmas yet,
And I was worried.

"Daddy, can I go ride now?"
Excitement in his voice.
"This is great, daddy!"
His smile is ear to ear.
"It's not green, daddy."


Tim, Christmas 1996