Christmas Poetry

              CHRISTMAS PASSAGE

When I was young and all was fresh and new,

and Christmas trees were tall and covered up

with fancy balls and bubbling lights that shone

through glittering tinsel hung upon each bough,

I could not seem to tear myself away.

Colored wrappers topped with shiny bows

could hold me in their hypnotizing trance.

I could not sleep at all the night before

so tossed and turned until the morning broke.

With energy I’d never have again,

I peeped around the corner just to see

if Santa had put toys beneath our tree.

Then as I grew, my childhood feelings changed.

Replaced by facts, as notions were debunked.

But I still searched for presents just to see

if Santa had left one or two for me.

The years flew by and I was Santa Claus.

My kids were now where I could only dream.

And once again I shared with them the awe.

But, in that joy, was weariness it seemed.

Brought on by months of gaudy ads and things.

I sat amid the rubble of our fete

and thought on why we give the gifts we do.

And as I did a peace came over me,

Jesus was the reason for our mirth.

Born in the little town of Bethlehem

God’s gift to undeserving men on earth.

Dennis Price