When What To My Wondering Eyes Should Appear
Jim dreamed - just like everyone else. He dreamed of bygone days when he would leap from his bed Christmas mornings, a flushed and excited eight-year old, taking the stairs two at a time on his descent to the lounge-room. Pushing wide the door respectfully, a trait often exhibited by only-children, you could have lit-up a thousand cities from the glow on the youngster's face as he gazed in awe at the presents piled up around the tree. Jim's parents had never been what you might call...