Home For The Holidays Poem by B. V. Dahlen

Our relatives are far away.
Our bank book is running on low.
We'd like to have them here with us,
Or back to them we'd like to go.

I feel the walls are closing in.
The rooms in these quarters are small.
The tree fills half our living room,
And it's only five foot tall.

Outside I can see that it's raining.
Oh why can't there ever be snow!
There is no school, and so the kids
Have no where else to go.

I hide inside my bedroom
Wrapping the gifts that I've bought.
The kids are banging on the door.
There goes the peace that I sought.

I'd love to sit and sip a cup
Before a flickering fire,
While listening to carols sung
By some recorded choir.

My neighbor knocks upon my door.
We sip a cup of tea.
Sharing our tales of frustration,
Tell where we'd like to be.

'Back home', where all our families
Will gather once again.
We talk of former Christmases,
And play 'Remember when'?

Those days when we were children
Those memories we clutch
Before we were responsible
For housework, kids and such.

The present breaks our reveres
This rainy winter day
Filled with squabbling children
And a house in disarray.

The smell of pine drifts by me.
From the corner of my eye
The twinkle of the tree lights
Causes thoughts that mollify.

Surrounded by clutter and chaos
I gaze at my family with pride.
What's important in life is around me.
What matter's is here by my side.

Who really cares where we are sent?
Whether quarters dismay or astound?
We'll always be home for the holidays
When the ones we love most are around.