(c) 1027 Edward York
I always remember my childhood,
When the mysteries of life were unclear.
The wondrous days we call Christmas,
Made it my best time of year.
We never had very much money,
But we always managed to eat.
We didn't get wrapped up in possessions,
And happiness lived on our street.
A real tree was what stood in the corner,
The smell of fresh pine in the air.
We covered it with things that all sparkle,
And dad would guide us from his chair.
My childhood days are now just a memory,
Adulthood in place many a year.
Christmastime is a wondrous reminder,
The mysteries of life still are unclear.
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Author:
lasergraph (
Offline) - Published: November 13th, 2017 10:35
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 77
Offline)
Comments5
A beautiful reflection.Set my mind drifting after I read it, smile to my face.
Wonderful poem! Put me in nostalgic mode. Christmas just can't get here soon enough! Love the last stanza. Great job lasergraph!
Erm yes, it's a mystery how Santa's beard remains white (and all the rest of him) after coming down all those chimneys?! heehee. I heard a rude rant about that - can't repeat it in public!
And Santa smokes a pipe. The beard should have signs of yellowing from the smoke.
Invokes recollections all round - great work.
Good nostalgic write.
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