With bended knees and hands together,
Closed eyes and silent mutter,
Under the twinkling stars of witching hour,
A hunched figure trembling in rags on Christmas Eve.
Pitiful the actions appeal to man,
Holding the vilest of men by the heart,
An urge to appease this wretched soul,
The hunched figure isolated from merry laughter.
Laughter rings around like the jingling of wedding bells,
Figures sporting fancy dresses and merry cheers,
Sweet delicacies and greens clad with reds,
It it Christmas , a happy festivity.
Dancing with classy shoes,
Gift sharing with happy cheers, “Merry Christmas”
A bellied man carrying a heavy sack with a bearded face.
Face brimming with smiles from little beast,
Walking the street with songs of ‘Holly’
Church bells ringing as the choir harmonizes the hymns of Baby Jesus.
It is Christmas, a jolly holiday.
Merry cheers a distant love song,
To the hunched figure a fantasy of deceit,
A ploy he resisted to succumb to.
‘Merry Christmas’ is a drinker’s rant to the hunched figure.
Each year ’tis a nightmare,
A shallow Christmas and its wishes not heard.
Upon the twinkling star a silent prayer is said,
“A wonderful Merry Christmas,” the only request.
Another wishful year it has been,
A plea to the universe or a God for a miracle,
To enjoy the Christmas as every little beast.
The single Christmas wish said earnestly.
Just a Christmas of merry good things.
A little lad hunched over his mat,
Knee bent and hands together,
Whispering a wish of a fancy Christmas, different from the dark dusty attic,
Not clothed in rags.