Have you heard stories, so very old;
You cannot believe them without faith, I'm told
A cold starry night when the presents were gold
What is their meaning for you?

I can't remember the first time I knew:
What's true for me may not be for you.
So many stories; which one is true?
Which sort of meaning will do?

Somewhere it's hot and there is no snow
But here in America fires will glow.
If we sit quietly , maybe we'll know:
All kinds of meanings are true.

I drew a picture of somewhere real far.
I drew a small shed and a six-pointed star.
Up in the sky, the sled and the deer,
And what Santa said as he made people cheer.

Then I drew hundreds of people around.
All of the races I colored, and found
Some holding presents, and some holding hands.
That's Christmas meaning for me.
What is its meaning for you?

© 1986 by Lydia Adams Davis