Some people think that happiness
Is getting better stuff.
But even when they get the best,
They never have enough.
Getting the best of everything
Will not make happiness.
Happiness is making the best
Of everything you get.
On Christmas morning little Meg
Came down the stairs in disbelief
As with eyes glowing she surveyed
The presents there beneath the tree.
Then suddenly she turned and ran
On padded feet back up the steps.
When she returned, her pudgy hands
Held a present wrapped in Kleenex.
The package had been wrapped with pride
And lots of scotch tape, and in red
Crayola printed on the side,
Was "Merry Christmas Jim from Meg."
She knelt and ceremoniously
Placed the present beneath the tree.
Then standing, she stared wistfully
At it, and a tear ran down her cheek.
Her Grandma, who'd been watching, said,
"Meg, who's that pretty present to?"
"It's for my brother Jim," said Meg.
"I thought he needed a present too."
Her Grandma frowned and said, "But, Meg
You haven't got a brother Jim."
"I would have though," Meg sadly said,
"If Mommy hadn't aborted him."