Christmas Blues
Christmas was never about God for me,
it was memories of warm laughter, rosy cheeked joys
for if God was the point, whose God would it be?
Xmas was about giving to your protégées.
Long, long, lost wishes of long broken boy toys,
Christmas was never about God for me.
Winter’s height held the beauty of childhood set free
of hunting and wrapping and folks overjoyed
for if it was God, we had three, whose God would it be?
This December wonder now past, gone you see,
gone with the cold, I’d not wish despair on July, this killjoy
for Christmas was never about God for me.
Once a year Xmas marks a sad crying spree
with nobody wanting to be home and little joy employed
for if God were the point, my son would be with me?
Perhaps, with grandchildren there be a jubilee
and this hollowed out husk of me will be destroyed
And Christmas will be about God for me
for it could be so, whose god will it be?
Copyright © Debbie Guzzi | Year Posted 2010
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