CHRISTMAS day is ended, and everywhere we look
We see a box of candy, house slippers, or a book,
neckties, sox, and handkerchiefs. Undies and perfumes
are scattered on the furniture, and clutter up the rooms.
As I take an inventory of our Christmas gifts today, I
feel a tinge of sadness I cannot brush away.
The gifts the children got this year are different as can be
from what they found a few years back, beneath the
Then, 'twas blocks and rattles, trains and tinker toys,
skates and carts and crying dolls, and things to make a noise.
Today there was a BB gun, and a little printing press;
Those two gifts end our shopping for Christmas toys I guess.
Their baby days are over, they've come and gone so quick!
They know as much as we do now
about the old SAINT NICK.
We don't have any period when they're especially good.
So he'll be sure to bring them the things they think he should.
There's not a single hiding place from the basement to the roof.
That hasn't been explored by them in their eager search for proof.
And now the mystery is solved, Christmas lacks the joys
that it had a few years back when they were tiny girls and boys.
and Christmas night it gets so still, the hours drag so slow,
when the married ones have gone back home
and others to a show.
Their Dad and I sit all alone beside the Christmas tree.
That is just a glowing symbol of days that "use to be."
Fanny Gudmundsen Brunt
Moods and memories book
Born in Lehi, raised in idaho, at 15 attended Ricks Academy and there
acquired "class poet" title.
She attended BYU one year and the married Joseph Brunt.
After the birth of her 6th child she began to write in verse the precious
memories of the sage brush days.