Days before Christmas; armed with a dust-pan,
I scrubbed up my house, all spic and all span!
Down on my knees, how I washed and I scoured,
I polished and waxed, I buffed and I cleared!
My kitchen shone bright, stove-top was gleaming,
My kettle was singing, hot tea was steaming!
My living room sparkled, with fairy lights,
Christmas tree lit up, the darkest of nights;
Buntings and streamers, heralds of good cheer,
added to the bright, festive atmosphere!
Yet something felt wrong, I have to confess,
My heart was not clean, it was quite a mess...
The dark grime of anger, was dimming my vision,
clouding my will, and my every decision;
There were cobwebs of fear, clogging my soul,
and bitterness stained, my heart like charcoal.
Back down on my knees, to clean and to clear,
With Rosary, I scrubbed out all anger and fear.
I knew then I must, clean my way of living,
for Christmas is love, and must be FORgiving...
©
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem