David Harris (18 June 1945 / Bradfield, England)
A Christmas Poem
Christmas is once more with us
with mistletoe and good cheer,
stocking hung on the mantle place
and presents under the tree.
People singing Christmas carols
entertaining you and me,
as Santa with his reindeer
landing on each house in sight.
Beaming and giggly faces
of children too excited to sleep,
with Christmas day tomorrow
they cannot wait for the sight.
Slowly drifting into dreams
of what might greet their eyes bright
as they listen for Santa’s reindeers
prancing along in the snow.
As sleep descends,
they wait for the morning light,
for Christmas is that time of year
when the world seems merry and right,
and so ends my Christmas poem.
Merry Christmas to all and goodnight.
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