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A CHARLIE JOE JACKSON HOLIDAY POEM

Twas the night before Christmas, and the library was quiet

When suddenly there rose a terrible riot

A boy did emerge at the elevator bank

Hollering, “Soon the children will have me to thank!”

 

This boy had three names, and one goal in mind

To grab all the books he could possibly find

But would he give them away to other girls and boys?

“No! Absolutely not!” he bellowed with a terrible noise

 

No, his plan was not to get kids to read every day

But to take all the books and toss them away

“That’s a true present!” he yelled, discarding all he could find

“No more of these books to waste all our time!”

 

But then he turned a corner and saw with a fright

A young girl reading by a dimly lit light

She was laughing and smiling and a glow lit her face

He suddenly had to get out of that place!

 

But before he could run, she noticed him there.

“Tell me your name, please,” she asked with a stare.

“I’d rather not say,” he said, “the answer is no.”

But as she looked at him he heard himself say, “Charlie Joe.”

 

Then before he knew it he was taking a seat.

“What are you reading?” he asked. “Is it neat?”

“Oh it’s wonderful, just like all books!” the little girl said.

“And just like you!” she added, making his face turn red.

 

“What’s your name?” he finally asked, with a smile.

“Why, it’s Katie Friedman,” she said, “and has been for a while.”

“The holidays are my favorite time of year!” she went on to say.

“So many books, I could sit here all day!”

 

And as they sat, and she read him a story.

He realized that books really did have a kind of glory.

You can lose yourself in one, find yourself in another.

Share them with friend and sister and mother.

 

Finally, the moon rose above the city street

They shook hands and he said, “I’m so glad we did meet.”

He gathered all the books he had tossed out of sight

And as he gave them to children, their smiles were brighter than bright.

 

Then he went home and found a book of his own under the tree

He opened it up with a special kind of glee

Then Charlie Joe read “A visit from St. Nick” over and over until morn

Yay for Christmas! Another reader is born.

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