Her present to him - a poem by Harold Wanham
At the foot of the fir tree the parcel lay,
Bedecked with ribbon and silver spray.
He always looked forward to Christmas Day
Bells on the wireless and Tinker at play.
He lovingly stroked her, without more delay
He gave her the present and showed her the way
To pull at the ribbon, in case she should say
"I don't think I'll bother - it isn't real prey."
But Tinker was artful and staged a display
More fit for a kitten than one old and grey.
She savaged the wrapping, rejoiced in the fray
And, seizing her toy she was up and away.
Her owner sat watching, content with her play
Her present to him on that lone Christmas Day.