Escapade of the Christmas Bows

By

Glenn Allen Nolen

Copyright © 2001 by Glenn Allen Nolen
All Rights Reserved

Escapade of the Christmas Bows

A Christmas snow
Completely covered the mistletoe
Sprinkling it with a white blanket of dust.
It blew across the land with a resolute but quiet gust.

Faces of children, young and old,
Peered through the window.
It was a sight to behold.
Everything seemed to glow.

Their mouths agape, Christmas bows fell from the sky
Stacking in drifts ten feet high:
Red, blue, black, green, purple, yellow and gold;
This is the story that was told.

The Escapade of the Christmas Bows,
Call it a raid.
A cavalcade,
Everyone was watching on his or her toes.

Long ago, 
Gifts had no
Obligating factor to be flashy or have pizzazz.
No razzmatazz!

Wrapped in ordinary papers,
Everything came plain.
People got the vapors.
Some went insane.

No one could delight
Reveling in the sight.
Every gift looked and sounded the same.
People forgot their name.

There was no jazz
That today everyone has. 
It's like water without rain,
Or rails without a train.

How can that be?
People need the eye to see.
1

Someone said: "Why not me?"
And they started wrapping free.

People began wrapping gifts in green.
Before long, everyone having seen
Coverings in bean,
Our eyes can be mean.

Someone else dyed
Some string
And tied
Knotting a thing.

Others made a fancy knot
Completing the first bow.
That's how we got
The things starting to snow,

Maybe a person decided to sew
Letting every bow
Stretch and grow.
Now they flow.

Perhaps, bows could row
From the get go,
How wonderful! Gee!
Could that be?

How could they have been taught?
They were certainly sought.
We seem to have forgot,
But we have all bought.

However, they began.
Bows were content letting the thing fan.
For generations, we would bring
Gifts that swing,

They supplied 
And multiplied
Decorating packages worldwide.
They kept in stride.

2

Everyone could see,
How beautiful a bow can be.
People didn’t know until
They gazed that day at the windowsill

That buying bows by the lot
And buying them by the dozen,
Made people stop and say: "What 
Is the reason for placing it on a gift to a cousin."

The bows had sensed a need for people to repent.
They were frustrated and bent.
They were also downright hacked.
That's when they decided to act.

The bows devised a caper
Planning on putting the meaning of the ribbon back.
Deciding how to gradually taper
Their use took a little knack.

They spent a fair amount of labor
Determining their role.
Notwithstanding an intrusive neighbor, 
A plan was put in the bowl.
 
Waiting for a frost
Needing a rupture in the distribution pipeline pole.
Failure would exact a tremendous cost.
And it would create a terrible toll.
 
Rattling their saber gave exclamation 
To a song!
Sounds like dedication,
How could that be wrong?

Hoping their plan wouldn't be for not.
The bows sought
Some advice,
And they rolled the dice.
	
Not once did they pause
Traveling on their pilgrimage to Santa Claus.
Picking up his sack,
Santa's advice was whack.
3

He told the bows not to respond.
Not one bow voted to put the cork back in the pond.
Most of the bows managed to sneak
Slithering away within a week.

Every bow complete
Had to meet 
In a place people couldn't peek
And no one would think to seek.

They made a pact not to adorn 
Wrapping paper on one single box.
The bows would soon feel scorn,
But they were sly as a fox.

They didn't want to be known as a vulture
Hoping to remain in our culture.
They were unabashedly willing to take a knock,
And they took it on the old block.
 
Long as there was no stock
To shelve,
The bows would save their flock
And make people delve

Succumbing to their realm.
People had to make a decision.
Some had a vision.
Others people faced odds that would overwhelm.

Creativity is pure.
Some might say: "Sure!
An untidy bow is not right."
That was the reason for their fight.

The bows left every store.
They made it to a door
Beckoning their allure. 
It was a cure.

Every bow that year 
Was hand made.
People came from far and near
Learning about the trade.
4

That was the gift the bows gave.
It was their day to save.
Some bows were tore.
Others bows were a bore. 

Mostly, the bows added more.
On Christmas morning,
The bows came out of hiding without warning.
They scrambled out an unforeseen door.

The bows gladly behaved
Waiting until Christmas day.
Adults stood and waved. 
Children did play.

Bows by the millions floated on by
Being blown by the wind,
It did send
Bounding billions soaring high.

To every corner of the globe,
Bows showered people still in their robe.
"Merry Christmas," they would say.
It was a wonderful way

For the world to unwind,
And no one seemed to mind.
Why even a bow
Can still grow?

Everyone, now, knows
That bows 
Can roam
Leaving their home.

They have a mind of their own.
Next time you give a gift.
Remember your bow might be miffed
If it’s not hand sewn.

If life does not fulfill
Our desire or will.
Where, then, would we be?
Certainly, back to gift giving without me;
5

It does not matter how it's thrown.
Bows can be placed on a bone,
A phone, or a throne;
Please! Make it your own.

	

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