Early Works - The Spirit Of Christmas
The December wind howled outside
rattling the windows,
the children played on the floor
as the crimson glow of the fire
warmed the heart of the room.
In the corner stood a Christmas tree
sparingly decorated with tinsel and lights
but beneath were no presents in sight.
Jason watched his children
with sadness tinting his eyes
he knew how important
Christmas was to young lives.
He had tried to save through the year,
but there was always something needed
from the money he tried to save
clothes, food and shoes to wear.
Oh how he would have loved to see
them smile from ear to ear
instead of sadness in their eyes
for toys that wouldn’t be there.
He wished he hadn’t spent so much on petrol
when he was looking for a job
that he had walked the lonely miles
from refusal to rejection
and used the money to buy
his children a Christmas present collection.
The smiling face of his wife
cheered him little from his frown.
His thoughts were of his childhood
and the presents crowded around
the bottom of the tree,
of stockings filled with sweets, toys and fruit,
and creeping down the stairs at the first light of dawn
to see what Santa Claus had left.
Those were happy Christmases
not like this one so bare.
The children went to bed early
excitement filled the air
with the expectancy of presents under the tree,
which sadly would not be there.
Jason and his wife waited
until they were asleep
and then filled each stocking
with all that they could afford.
Then set about arranging
the few presents that they had
before they themselves retired to their bed.
The silence of the night
[...] Read more
poem by David Harris
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
