The list of love
That each person has obtained
Does not run as long
As the list I would send
To Santa each December,
Does not run as wide
As the rivers I waded
As a child,
Does not run as deep
As that clod of dirt
That got stuck in my heel,
Does not run as pure
As the Christian roots
With which I started,
Does not run as white
As the granite ball
That sits upon my window sill,
But there has been
One person among each event
That may just fit the list.