Coming Home For Christmas
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Twas the night before Christmas before I got home,
it took a train, bus, and taxi in falling snow;
and how that bus on the road did sway and roam,
while the wild snow and wind did howl, roar and blow.
It began in northern Ontario on a train,
and it was wonderful gliding through forests frozen;
then, onto a bus that wandered from lane to lane,
my wish to get home for Christmas seemed ill-chosen.
Then, somehow we arrived to my city in an icy snowstorm,
slipping and sliding- I ventured outside snow blind;
and got a taxi with a driver that was barely a life form,
but, when I saw home such lovely thoughts twined.
The driveway was a hill- now all ice and snow covered,
I started up and would just slip back down again and again;
so, crawling on my knees was the best way I discovered,
finally, I made it to the porch and front door- amen.
I entered like I had walked all the way from the north,
so, cold I shivered for an hour in front of the fire place;
but, I made it and how happy was my mom's face,
we kissed again, again and again- back and forth.
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December 04, 2022
Poetry/Rhyme/Coming Home For Christmas
Copyright Protected, ID 12-1506-612-04
All Rights Reserved, 2022, Constance La France
Written for the Standard contest, The Night Before 3
sponsor, Joseph May, Judged 12/23/2022
First Place
Copyright © Constance La France | Year Posted 2022
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