My yesterday's Christmas, gone like the wind. In nostalgia I go back in time.
Children dancing in ecstatic joy of the songs, holiday is coming, no more morning bells.
In anticipation our young minds wait with bathed breath.
New clothes, new shoes, dad and mom, their duty to us.
Oversized shoes and clothes, they adorn us like beautiful clowns on display.
In huge debts of gratitude we owe them. For us a privilege we cherish.
Fireworks they christened it, knock outs we knew it then.
We strike with our matchbox to shoot in childish excitement.
Christmas rice and Chicken, we long to have a taste. A delicacy we may never taste again until another Christmas.
In daddy's motorbike we rode to Father Christmas we journey to. His bags of Christmas gifts we are eager to have. Santa we knew not where he comes from, some say he lives in the North pole, some say he comes from a cold place so far. We were content with our Father Christmas.To the electric dancing steps of Baba uwa we jump, to his bulky and budging stomach we jeer and sing along.
Evenings are for the Block Rosary crusade troupe on a tour from house to house their sweet juvenile voices rent the evening skies to Christmas carols they sing.
Christmas day we throng the homes of family and neighbours for our share of the largesse of Christmas.
When the Sun goes for his super we return to roost with the spoils of Christmas goodies, our pockets lined with crisp Naira notes, our stomachs over fed.
Christmas story ends, a hasty visit to the shit infested latrine
we rush to as our belly sing in riotous euphony from all we ate.
My yesterday's Christmas, if I could bring you back, my yesterdays Christmas is gone like the wind, never to return.
Topic(s) of this poem: christmas, christmas day, nostalgia
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.