The Sweater that Wasn't

The boy lay in bed, his head spinning

As he tried to make sense of the strange world he was in

The floor seemed to stretch on forever, or so it seemed

He stumbled out of bed, his legs unsteady and weak

As he made his way towards the tree, his heart began to leak

For there, in the distance, he saw a present, wrapped in a hue

That seemed to shift and change, like a rainbow, but not quite true

He reached out to touch it, his fingers trembling with fear

But as he grabbed hold of the wrapping, his vision began to clear

The present took on a more solid form, no longer a blur

And the boy saw that it was a sweater, handmade with love and care

He couldn't believe what he was seeing

This strange world, it was all too fleeting

But as he held the sweater in his hands

He felt a warmth and comfort, it was a strange but pleasant brand

He realised that the true meaning of Christmas

Was not about material things, but the love and joy it brings

No matter how strange the world may seem

The love and joy of Christmas was a constant, or so it seemed.