Christmas At Switzers Poem by James Fitzpatrick

Heavy, is heart of youth that ticks the clock,
Beneath the light, that guards the line,
Which craves the end of dread about.

Winding, goes the Human Snake,
Of Sounds and smells and spies abound,
Hunting for the Boldest Boy, in amongst the men.

Popping, go the guns behind,
While shifting sands in boots well worn,
I question all the digging Dwarves,
Will it ever be the same?

The Journey's end has come too fast,
I'm lifted in to someone's arms,
I Stare upon a bearded man,
Counting Dreams upon my hand.

Silence falls on Grotto ears,
Beneath the clock which beats the heart,
Where all the children's Donkeys lay,
We never stood a chance.

Lightly, threads the heart of youth,
That broke the line,
Beneath the light of what we knew,
Then asked the tuneless thoughtless foe,
To never play again.

But Smiling,
Comes the face of Mother's love Upon the babes,
Who sailed the paths to venture home,
Among the hearts of many.