Three men were coming along the road. I prepared to play on my drum for them, in hope they would find it satisfactory and drop a coin at my feet. As they neared, however, my hands stayed. They were so grand and solemn, I dared not. Instead, I bowed my head in respect.
One of them paused and looked down at me.
“Come,” he said. “There is a newborn King to see. Our finest gifts we are bringing, to lay before Him, to honor Him.”
I followed, for how could I refuse? I was curious too. Why would they want someone like me to honor a King?
The lodgings were no palace. Yet the men bowed and worshiped the baby profusely, and presented gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh.
I saw he was no ordinary child.
My turn came. I approached and said quietly, “Little baby, I am a poor boy too.
I have no gift that’s fit to give a King. Shall I play for you on my drum?”
His mother nodded.
I played my drum for him.
Pa rum pum pum pum, rum pum pum pum, rum pum pum pum.
I played my best for Him.
Then he smiled at me.
Me and my drum.
YOU ARE READING
Tidings of Comfort and Joy
Short StoryA collection of Christmas stories-and a few poems-to enjoy during the holiday season. Or in the middle of June. No one is going to judge you.
