Christmas comes but once a year
And with it, Christmas cards.
“A Happy Christmas to you dear -
We send our best regards.”
Some come from folk I barely know –
Well I met them in July –
But there’s nothing else for me to do,
But return one in reply.
They come with wishes most sincere
To tiptoe through my door,
Having travelled far, or travelled near,
They land upon my floor.
Look! Santa Claus and snowy scenes -
Robins, penguins, sleighs;
Bright silver cards, some reds and greens -
And “Greetings” they all say.
They come from those who never phone
Or even think to write.
Like thieves their cards creep in my home
To offer some delight.
There’s a blow by blow account from one
Of what they did this year.
While their lives have been packed with fun,
Mine’s dull, that’s very clear!
When I’ve been dead for ten whole years,
They’ll still steal through my door.
Each Christmastime those words of cheer
Will come just as before.
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