Holly Poem by ANDREW BLAKEMORE

At the edge of the field in a hedgerow so tangled,
So thick and so dense where the holly does grow,
Berries of scarlet are caught in the sunlight,
Its leaves sharp and shining and all is aglow.
The birds make their home inside
Safe and secure there,
They rest in peace and harmony
And all should do the same.

I cut several sprigs there to take home for Christmas,
To lay by the candle the season of love,
The berries the symbol the blood of our Saviour,
And life that he gave for all glories above.
The leaves like the crown he wore
Upon the wooden cross,
They mirror his eternal light
Beneath the burning flame.

At the edge of the field in a hedgerow so tangled,
So thick and so dense where the holly does stand,
The snowflakes start falling and rest on its leaves now,
So pure and so gentle like God's loving hand.
And I turn and I head for home
For now the day grows cold,
And look upon my holly sprigs
Such passion they do hold.