Christmas, I remember,
Was the only time the fire was lit all day.
Da lit it real early with twists of the Evening Press,
Bits of broken wood, and coal brought from the
Backyard in the ashbucket.
The room was warm, flickering.
Once a year smells of Nutmeg, Spice and
Stale Guinness mixed with coal smoke, Pine,
And White Pudding.
Everything was lit up, for breakfast!
Red and white chains of Crissed Crossed Crepe
Hung from light to ceiling corners.
Cards on the mantle, Holly Berries over the picture
Of The Big Fella’, and The Sacred Heart.
And the Christmas Tree had
The path was frosted white on the way out to the lav.
I rode my big wheel trike, squeaky, on the lino.
“Triumph”, was written in old fashioned
silver letters on the red metal bars.
I was five then, Full of Joy.
It was happy and warm that
Christmas, I remember.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem