At Christmas families are reunited
Even those members you’d prefer weren’t invited
We stress over food, presents and reindeer sighted
Then
convince ourselves it’s a holiday.
When recalling childhood memories, though
It’s not the obtrusive fairy light glow
Or even going out to play in the snow;
These
aren’t the sensations that stay.
It’s watching the joy on small surprised faces
And hiding presents in imaginative places.
It’s still (in March) finding pine needle traces
And four
o clock starts on the day.
And as the wheel turns with each passing year
And fewer of the older generation are here
Best wishes seem bluer and much less sincere
At least, it can feel that way.
Atheists exercise gluttonous proclivity
While Christians celebrate the nativity
And merchants are anxious about consumer inactivity
And old
folk on their own alone stay.
Perhaps instead of the giving of stuff
We should realize the giving of time is enough
Spend some of your working with folk sleeping rough
Prevent
police from taking their things away.
Each year the Belarusian children come
For a time of laughter and presents and fun
Without your support this could never be done
This
is the spirit of the season at play.
Give what is needed and where it’s deserved
Forget any grudges, forgive what’s occurred
Nurture warm feelings when they are stirred
Don’t
let sadness turn red and green memories grey.
