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About This Author
 Writing poetry allows me to exercise my imagination and share it with others. I strive to write for the benefit of the reader using carnival fun mirror images of my life's experiences.
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The draw I didn't like at all, A super on the night shift, The one I didn't want to draw, For my secret Santa gift. I tried to trade my lot away, Yet none would save my fate that day. Torn between thoughts evil and good, Revenge and forgiveness fought, Give him some worthless thing I should, Or act as a Christian ought. To save me some peace of mind, I prayed a proper gift I'd find. While days of shopping here and there, Through sleet, snow, and freezing rain, I found great gifts for those I care, My secret Santa gift remains. When a thought I'd not had before, Bade me shop a nearby thrift store. The shelves were piled with worn-out junk, Mismatched sets of cheap glassware, When all hope to snag a prize sunk, My hand touched a blue glass bear. It's etched base read, "You'll never find, A better time to change your mind." I didn't know what the phrase meant, Yet I paid three ninety-nine, Wrapped and under the tree it went, I was feeling mighty fine. But when the gift was opened last, In awe, my colleague stood aghast. "This thing sat on my father's desk, And went lost the day he died," As he held it close to his chest, He lowered his head and cried. To those whose faith is circumstance, I'll not be swayed, 'Twas more than chance. (36 Lines)
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