by Alyssa Bella

Created on: April 30, 2009   Last Updated: November 30, 2011

A bank of glittering memories open,
For many to admire,
Bells ring and choirs sing,

We dine, our hopes conspire
And old religions tell the tale,
Of the greatest love beheld,
New generations hear the words,
But seek with heart to meld
The splendors great, bows of holly
Deck the halls, and more
Family's here, from far, from near,
The wrappings hit the floor
A wonderland of song and lights

Enticing us this day,
We celebrate the time that's ours,
Our children safely play,
But not so far away, a place
Where innocence is sold,
Almost nine, he's not the time,
For him the season's cold
No presents wait for him this day,
Beneath the great spruce bow,
He fought to eat, would love to sleep
But chance will not allow
You met him on the street that eve,
With parcels in your hands,
A dirty face, youth out of place
You think, "I understand"
And solemnly you pack today,
Christmas in a box
The tinsel, tree and lights, away
And with them all the talks
Of good things done and yet to do,
Of little boys, like he...
Who fight to eat, and cannot sleep,
Who need the world to see.
That Christmas isn't trains, or dolls,
Or cookies, cakes and pie,
Or spending more to prove our love,
And cursing long return lines.
The season's one of cherishing
The people we love so,
And finding time and making change,
So that our warmth, they'll know.
The little boy will take the toy,
Our guilt's delivery,
But, dirty face, youth out of place
He may know more than we.

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