Come list' my dear to Christmas, 'tis the sound
of children's voices ringing soft and dear,
it calls to mind some hope may still be found
within a world that lives in constant fear.
Oh what a change the world's been going through
since first we met one winter Christmas eve,
and all I ever had, the gift of you,
is all I ever needed to believe
that peace on Earth would be all of our days
and now just hear these children sing along,
perhaps we judge them harshly, in some ways,
for don't they seem the picture of their song?
How could one think our children do not care,
when there's so much of Christmas they now share?
© ron wilson aa vee bdosa the doylestown poet