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.
What 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."
I wanted to be a good man,
Helping others without complaint.
I wanted sons to make me proud
And to carry on my name.
I wanted good friends around me
To share in my joy and laughter.
I wanted my wife beside me
Through triumph and disaster.
I wanted to share, in our old age,
Fond memories of when we'd courted.
But I must have done something bad,
'Cause I've just been aborted.
Reprinted from Insights and Outlooks- by G. E. Kruckeberg, Kindle edition.