I like Christmas, and its candy-cane call for peace, pause and goodwill toward men. And that tale that's got no price and isn't for sale, but a gift all the same—better still. And all the ribbon-wrapped, green scenes of life, love and what you've been meaning to say. And the gifts—and un-gifts—and gluttonous, gracious grins and fray. And for every laugh and noise, it's all-and-all so fun and full—so tidied with tape until that good tear and pull.
And every smile marks a mile more than any other time and the day before, and your pace and while and treaded way, and thirty else moments' fleeting sway.
Hey—I like Christmas!