Christmas in Indianapolis

When I was a toddler, I was so amazed
To wipe the sleep from my eyes
On a cold December morning,
The frigid floor knifing across
The soles of my little feet,
Walking sleepily down the dark hallway
Toward the waiting living room.

To find the packages and toys
And colored lights all aglow,
My heart flip-flopping
Like a fish out of water
At all the toys and gifts
Displayed on the hardwood floor
For me, for me.

Brother was too young
To understand the electricity
Which spilled from those tiny lights
Passing through the evergreen boughs
Dripping down through the tinsel
And the boxes and boxes and more boxes
Painting their reflections on the cluttered canvas of the floor.

It was all so incomprensible
For a three year old to grasp:
The pure, unadulterated joy
And glee, the chirping noises I made,
It was only later, when I was an adult
And had a three year old child of my own
That I grasped the sacrifices and efforts
And love which were on display
Among the tattered wrapping paper
And burning Christmas lights
And the happy mayhem that morning.