A poem for Christmas
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So it's that time of year again?
Cold December wind, and cold December rain.
Not to mention Jack Frost, or the danger of snow,
and crowds of shoppers wherever you go.
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The hustle and bustle, and excitement every where.
The to-ing and fr-oing, with no time to spare.
Presents to buy for family and friends.
Don't forget anyone, the list never ends.
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The shops have prepared for a while now it seems,
to entice you to buy the gift of your dreams.
Bright trimmings and music with seasonal flavour,
and festive foods with aromas to savour.
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Holly and mistletoe, Poinsettias galore.
Christmas tree needles to cover the floor.
Sheets of wrapping paper, ribbon and tape.
Santa Clause outfits including the cape.
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Hot chestnuts roasting on those funny trolleys.
Passers-by wrestling with shopping, and brollys.
Childrens faces shining as they look on with glee.
Counting the different shaped lights that they see.
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Traffic lights changing, colours still the same,
but somehow enhanced by the fairy light chain.
Shop staff, some dressed up in festive mood,
with no time to stop and nibble at food.
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So it's arrived. Christmas is here at last.
and with it thoughts of Christmas's past.
Or of times long ago in Charles Dickens's days,
old Ebeneezer Scrooge, who mended his ways.
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Salvation Army rattling their tins,
as Oh Come All Ye Faithful, the fifth time begins.
But it doesn't matter, as it's part of the season,
and perhaps you sing along, for no other reason.
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Or perhaps you remember the days of old,
that fulfilled, all of the prophecys told.
Of a King who would come to free His folk,
from bondage, and the oppressers yolk.
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Yet not in a way that everyone thought,
but humbly in a stable to be counted as nought.
A baby to grow and live the same way as we,
to redeem our souls by His death on the tree.
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So whatever you do, midst the hustle and bustle.
The sound of Noel, and Christmas paper rustle
The sight of Holly berries, and bright Christmas tree lights,
with Christmassy smells on cold Christmassy nights.
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Take time out to ponder the best gift of all,
the one in the manger, that old cattle stall.
the one whose coming Isaiha foretold,
let God's fulfilled promise, in your heart now unfold.
Copyright Jack Brown ©1994 and 1999