The Holdiay Gift

Open eyes –

Speeding heart –

That's what most kids feel –

– but when alone for the holidays

There are no hopes to spark some zeal.

It's been like this every year

Or so he can remember –

For on Christmas day there is no cheer –

It's just cold, dreary December.

"Get up!" she yells – raps on the door

"I'm up!" he yells. "Say no more!"

So little Harry climbs out of bed.

Or out of the cupboard –

His feet like lead

But out they led rest assured –

Presents? He sighs.

Probably not.

But wait –

There's one –

Under that tree.

Eyes his wide that sought –

He squints from afar

The tag must be wrong.

For it says Harry

It's seven feet long.

The boy is so quiet

As he looks at the gift –

They leave the room

For only a moment –


It's open in no time

He hurries in haste

A broom?

For cleaning?

What a waste.

Sighs sadden his spirit

He looks at the gift –

But it could be magic.


The Dursleys are scarce

– no sign of a whisper.

Race outside, fast

Ouch. Wet. Cold. Snow.

Ignore it –

Swing leg over –

Push off the ground

Into the sky.

This boy can fly.

He soars and he smiles

Be to born the bird –

Just glide –

Don't think –


But shake

He's off






A sharp, "Get up!"

She raps on the door.

Harry groans.

A dream –

Too good to be true.

Later –

His face seemed too cold – though –

His fingers – too.

He looked down to see a small cut.

A splinter –

From wood.

This had a really cool layout, but this website doesn't allow it :( It had stanzas and neat spaces and everything. Aw, well...

I wrote this in 20 minutes just because it's a special day called December 25th.

Merry Christmas!