Twas the night before Christmas, a quiet shelter night,
Except for one little weasel, who couldn't sleep tight.

Asleep he should be, but he just couldn't wait,
In hopes for the wish, that determined his fate.

A forever home, first on his holiday list,
He wanted to be sure he wasn't missed.

At the shelter he spent day after day,
A home of his own, he wanted to stay.

Santa would come, he was sure that was true,
And he was anxious to discover a home anew.

He climbed quietly, up past the fire,
Excited, expectant, for his desire.

As he reached the top, his head hung in despair,
Nothing was waiting, nothing hung there.

He knew in a moment, it had been too much to wish,
Too big a request on his small, heartfelt list.

So much to ask for, this one little thing,
Oh so much more than Santa could bring.

Looking down softly, it came to his sight,
A package with his name by the fire light.

Opening it up to such delights and joy,
Sent special for him a hammock, treat and toy

This box from afar, bringing hope and good cheer,
With sentiments wished him, that he held dear.

It made him so happy, what this gift meant,
although his days in a shelter were spent.

He was not forgotten, not this special night,
Someone, somewhere, in their heart held him tight.

He was thought of and loved on this special Eve,
And he knew suddenly, he had all he could need.

He had his home, in the shelter with care,
And this great gift, showed he was loved everywhere.

He settled deep into his stocking hung high,
And gave a hearty, contented sigh.

For now he knew the secret, this place he had found,
Was his own shelter home, with love all around

And here in the stocking, Santa found him settled tight,
He blew him a kiss, and wished him Good Night.


Visit The Giving Tree to be a secret santa to a special shelter
ferret, and spread the joy of the season
http://www.mfran.org/2008/index.html

[Posted in FML 6190]