The Little Red Bow

After Christmas the old bow goes back to the box, this little bow has had quite some knocks. It's colour faded from it's once bright red, it goes for a year to it's boxy bed. Battered and torn and falling apart. Nothing at all, like the new works of art. 

In an old ladies box of things for her tree, lay this bow waiting for twelve months to be free. Torn apart, it lay there all year, 

what if this was the end? That was the fear. The light flows in, as the woman plucks them one by one, 

from the old dusty box that once held glasses long gone. The bow was left aside as she used all the rest. She took a needle and thread and began to stitch it back to it's best. She sprinkled it with glitter and gave it a kiss. 

Then said "don't worry m'dear, not a Christmas you'll miss." So high on the tree she placed the little old bow. And as people passed by, they saw that it now had a glow.