Echoes Poem by James Hart

Echoes



Echoes

Into the silence of the Christmas night
They burst with a sort of thoughtless fright
Out of their clubs till then out of sight
An echo that would startle the smallest mite

They’re frightened it would seem so much of the dark
They shout as if to say it’s me, so hark
They make echoes they say and just for a lark
But better to practise that down on the park

Now Christmas is an echo from heaven to earth
That tells of a special child’s singular birth
To all who receive him he fills them with mirth
Taken out of the street they realise their worth.

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James Hart

James Hart

Grappenhall, Cheshire
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