Mom At Christmas Poem by Thomas Nedzbala

Mom at Christmas

I was once asked by a friend
“What Does Christmas Mean to Me”
I sat there quietly and pondered
while staring at the lit Christmas tree.

I thought back to fond memories
Of Christmas when I was young.
To my home with my mom, my brother,
she made each Christmas the very best one.

My mom made most of our decorations by hand
She would work with sequins, thread, and glue.
The decorations were so incredible
We thought there was nothing she could not do.

My mother would decorate our Christmas tree
The lights and every tinsel strand hung one by one.
Her trees were always a masterpiece
When lit, shone brightly like the sun.

On Christmas Day mom would start to make
an exceptional holiday dinner.
I can never recall in all my life
One meal that was not a winner.

My mother taught me during this time
It’s not what you get, but what you give.
I have kept that value close to heart
In my profession and how I live.

So as I sat and stared into that tree
My thoughts still held back in time.
I realized my mother is still with me
Especially at Christmas Time.

Miss You Mom! !