I watched the baubles as they bounced Around our green and shimmering tree Those spurs and prongs proudly balanced With the children allowed to be free
For once and only once alone a year We waited in our room for him “I think I hear his bells” we fear Then he comes and the repetition dims
It’s dying now so no more dressing But I love the yearning, lovely feeling It’s dead now but like the ever living We feel as the child feels loving
The scare, the hurt has gone at last To watch their peace at Christmas, free as the past
Be the first to comment