It’s bow was a dazzling red like a frosted snowy rose.

Its wrapping paper was a sight to behold with glossy green of a emerald stone.

It smelt so fresh like angel breath had one whispered under your nose.

And if you looked away then in your eyes corner it glowed.

“Ooh, what could it be billy bean?” Asked mama Joan.

Then billy pouted his lip and said “leave me alone”.

But Through his tears shined the gift that stuck out as if it stood.

He kicked back the torn paper of presents he thought no good

Deep down he felt a crawl, a butterfly or two

And with the flutter of their wings a warmth emerged and grew

“You really don’t want to know my bean?” The gift she raised up high

It seemed so lite but was so big he thought the gift could fly