An Old Man at Christmas

The old man sits alone in the dark, as he awaits the coming fine day,

His memories now, to take him far back, as if in his mind, to play.

The times of much joy and celebration, so real, in thoughts, sublime,

They to fly away then, to a happier season, as if in a machine of time.

There was a time when children all ran, to play and to sing their songs,

The tree in the hall, the grandest spot of all, the holly there, to belong.

The books were read before time for bed, as they waited eagerly, the morn,

With happy thoughts of Santa Clause, when the baby Jesus, was to be born.

The stockings were all hung with such care, above the fireplace, so warm,

Such a glorious past, and for him to last, that his mind, in recalling, did form.

The wonderful treats, and great oven-baked meats, the tasty bread, to eat,

The care of precious hands, to prepare, by his wife, so smart and so sweet.

Now she was gone away, but her fond memory, still lingered, to be in his heart,

There would never be a time there, he was not aware, as always she was a part.

The children upstairs were full of the their cares, that Christmas day would bring,

There would be caroling after their dinner, then off to the nearby church, to sing.

The evening shadows, all long since had flown, replaced in the night's swift flight,

The full of the moon, and bright stars to shine, past the window, a welcome sight.

The morning's pale mist, now began to enlist, the beckoning of the warming sun.

Soon it would be a time of great joys, outside, for the girls and the boys, to run.

A sudden light was then switched on, so bright, to startle the old man from his rest,

The scurry of small feet, the lighted tree, to greet, and give them a time of the best.

The kisses and hugs from each small one, and the smiles to be exchanged that day,

Made it all worthwhile, as the love of all was shared, now to remember, why he cared.

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