I don't know if it was Santa,
who sent her love to me,
in a red and silver bow,
beneath my Christmas tree.

Perhaps it was an angel,
Mary, Jesus, or a saint,
who colored my gray world,
in gold and silver paint.

Could it be a friend or loved one,
who resides high in the sky,
who knew what I was missing,
when they heard me cry?

In the end it doesn't matter,
for love is all we need,
and she's a gift from heaven,
in spirit, word, and deed.

No expensive gift is greater,
than her touch, caress, and kiss,
and every Christmas Eve,
I thank The Lord for this.

She's prettier than Christmas,
and slowly dancing snow,
on a lovely Christmas morning,
with all her heart and soul.

Every lovely Christmas morning,
she bequeaths sweet love to me,
underneath the mistletoe,
beside our Christmas tree.