Once upon a Christmas night
Four little brothers had a great fight.
The eldest screamed, “That’s mine, give it to me.”
The youngest cried, “I play too, let me see.”

The middle two boys pushed and shoved
And knocked off the tree star high above
All eyes stared at the shattered mess
And pulled at their hands with far too much stress

For then their mom came into the room
Her frown turned down, her mouth in sadness and gloom
“What’s this I see, scattered on my rug?”
She asked and was answered with no more than a shrug

“He did it,” No he,” each little boy did blame
Yelling and shouting each other one’s name
Silenced finally, when a tear stained Mom’s cheek
A blush tinted their faces and they all went meek

The youngest boy stepped out of the crowd
Puffed out his chest and held his chin so proud.
“I did it Mom, I fought with my brother,
I took his toy, I am sorry Mother.”

She looked down at the smallest of her men
The youngest of four from three to ten
Then looked at the others, each with a bent head
Who looked up, eyes filled with the greatest of dread.

“It was our fault too, we started to push,
And the star toppled down like a berry from a bush.
We didn’t mean to break the topper you adore
We were just misbehaving as we’ve done before.”

She smiled down at her fearsome group
And crouched to her knees so not to stoop.
“Thank you for telling the truth you all,
I did like that star bought back last fall.

“But I love my boys more than some silly old thing
I love you more than anything,”
She said as she ruffed the hair of each one,
“Merry Christmas,” she said to each little son.

© Denise McDonald 11/05/04