The power to create a world, solely from the words written by your own mind, is a gift that should never be hidden.

Merry Christmas

Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the store
Not a customer was shopping, the whole place was bored.
The inventory was hung from the pegboard with care,
In hopes that a customer soon would be there.

The drivers were nestled all snug in their cars,
With visions of paychecks and drinking in bars.
We leaned on the counter wearing our caps,
If it gets too much slower we`re going for naps.

When out on the parking lot arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the counter to see what was the matter.
Away to the doors I flew like a flash,
Tore off the open sign and pushed my way past.

The street light on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the dull yellow glow to objects below.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature pinto, and a decrepid john deer.

With a little old driver, so pokey and slow,
I knew in a moment it must be old Joe.
More rapid than eagles his demands they came,
And he whistled, and swore and forgot my name!

"Now wipers! now, brakes! now, pads and shoes!
One clutch! One rotor! I want them in blue!
To the top of the shelf! to the top of the wall!
Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!"

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, I climbed to the sky.
So up to the shelf top the partsmen they flew,
With the arm full of parts, and partsman or two.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard in the front,
The snearing and jawing of a customer so brunt.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Behind the counter came old joe with a bound.

He was dressed all in plaid, from his head to his feets,
And his clothes were all tarnished with oil and greese.
A bundle of rags he had flung over his back,
And he looked like a madman, all ready to hack.

His eyes were so red! his teeth were so scary!
His cheeks like balloons, his nose red as a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn tight in a line,
And the beard of his chin was as wirey as twine.

The stump of a pencil he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke from his ears wrapped his head like a wreath.
He had a broad face and a huge fat round belly,
That shook when he roared, an engine not ready!

He was fat and rotund, a right mean old elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself!
A flame in his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had everything to dread.

He spoke not a word, but threw parts in my work,
And tossed all the counters, then turned with a jerk.
And laying his finger toward me in air,
Then giving a nod, he turned and showed me a pair!

He sprang to his pinto, then lay hard on the horn,
And away down the street with a patch that was torn.
But I heard him bark loud, ‘ere he drove out of sight,
"Next time I come here you get my parts right!"