this is my mom's fave. She'll get mad if I don't post it---you know how moms are.
Legend Of The White Poinsetia
In all the ages of the past,
Only red poinsetias grew,
Until the Christmas miracle,
Known by such a few.
It seems a babe lay pale and ill,
Within her tiny bed,
While on the nursery windowsill,
Poinsetias bloomed, bright red.
The baby's mother noticed not,
The lovely scarlet flowers,
But only knealt beside the crib,
And grieved the long night hours.
The mother did not stir until,
The dawn of Christmas day,
Slowly walked to the window there,
And bowed her head to pray.
"Oh God, I fear so for my child,
She lies so very weak,
And only Thou, I know,
Can place the bloom back in her cheek."
And as she prayed so earnestly,
Her teardrops fell upon,
The poinsetia's scarlet petals,
And with the light of dawn,
She heard a healthy wailing,
From the child she thought to die.
And it was music to her ears,
To hear the infant cry.
She held her baby in her arms,
And oh, her cheeks were rosy now!
Her daughter's cries were loud and strong,
No fever left upon her brow.
She looked toward the window,
To thank God for answered prayer-
But those lovely red poinsetias,
Were somehow no longer there.
Instead, the proud poinsetia,
Bloomed in purest, winter white,
And does, to this day blossom so,
In honor of that night.