a poem about Christmas
There are so many good things about you,
A spirit of care which grows so quick,
compassion so pure is given away all so true,
A willingness to help is always there,
Unbridled friendship and lots of care,
is free for all,
and all to share.
All too often your true meaning is lost.
In the the stores regardless of the cost,
And the tudes of people ,
who seem not to care,
The pushing and shoving of people there,
making their way without a care,
All are considered a number as they move everywhere,
I hated that feeling most,
when I wanted to enjoy it,
or even give a toast.
How many know your meaning,
or know for what you stand?
As money changes from person to person,
and hand to hand,
people go about there tasks,
hiding there faces,
wearing their masks.
to me you are a joy come true,
the trees all decked out green, red, yellow, and blue,
with gifts gathered all around,
followed quickly by the presents scattered about the ground,
tis a time for family and for friend,
to share some love,
upon which nothing will depend.
Once again you must pass away,
I sit here wishing you would stay,
you shake your head
and lean in to say
do not weep or cry,
I will be back in a bit,
but just another day.