Rarest of beauty is she the ice fawn,
Grazing within the ice meadows in crystal
Fields of frozen cloves, as the star lights
Flicker in brilliance shinning, all about her.
A shy creature of gentleness, made of ice
And snow, unique amongst the polarized canvas,
Alone in perfections glittering diamond dust,
Of winter’s mystical enchantments.
Drinking from the pools of the moon,
Warmed by the twinkling shades of the rays,
Casted in the Aurora Borealis of the northern
Pastures, beyond mankind’s encroachment.
Creations gathering of angel tears shed
In tender moments of truest grace, was
She this miracle thus was so made,
The ice fawn.
Chamber lights living Kalightoscope, a prism of
Dear shine, walking in splendors white ice.
A mystical being of opulence’s elegance, splashed
By the divine plate array, and brushed by the wings
Of the ethereal angelic.
A sparkling gem, a jewel of winter, with the
Soft brown eyes of clarity, behold the ice fawn
In all her glittering glory, walking in freedoms
Sacred Valley of the human imagination.
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
I do not know?
From blade of grass to the tip of twig,
The white dust of winter fall’s.
Frenzied flakes move in lost abandonment,
Finally pitch on fence and wall’s.
On the throat the rasping of cold crisp air,
The sound of snow crunching underfoot.
As the day grows short , and night draws in,
Now the journey homeward took.
Familiar shapes come into view,
There outlines soften by the snow.
What once were roofs ,now don white overcoats,
With ice jewellery now on show.
The old mill wheel lies motionless,
So still the little stream.
Held fast by Jack Frost clutches,
In a Christmas greeting scene.
Chinks of light through windows,
Gives some comfort and delight.
Cast a beam with an incandescent glow,
On white grains as they glisten bright.
At the door the latch clicks open,
And with thud is now latched again.
Keeping winter firmly on the out side,
withIn, thoughts of summer to retain
I do not know?
Walking down old familier streets
On such a beautiful day
The first day of winter
Clear and serene
With a cool subtle breeze
After the rains, they have all gone away
White floating clouds, scattered amid the sky
With its sunshine, piercing through the trees
Radiant; enchanting; like crowns of light
Down Echo Avenue I stroll, once again of course
Kimala, life, more....
Near the corner of Elizabeth
I suddenly stop and I turn
Looking back toward Pacifica
Trying to touch, what once was mine
The whistle of a train, begins to sound in the distance
And in that moment; this moment, for an instant
I feel the rush of love, flowing upon my heart!
I turn back around
And I look ahead....
And it hits me, it hits me
How wonderful; how amazing
Life, and all of its moments, its seasons, and its years
Because of others; because of "God"
My autumn wine; white winter rose
Please tell me how your garden grows?
I’ve lost my touch, I feared as much
You are fragile and it shows
Can I still call upon you?
With no words ever spoken to you?
And would you come to me?
Could you hear me in a dream?
Would you “sense” me if I came close,
But not in sight of you eyes?
Would you tempt me if giving up hope
Could cleanse me of all the lies?
I survive through a disguise
Designed to hide my immortal light
You will never see it
For I am a chameleon
Crawling through the ancient garden
The (other) not known as Eden
For it has no name to keep it safe
Until light shines on this darkened place
“April showers bring May flowers”
And so your flower has not yet soured
You still have the power to reverse your desires
My white winter rose, will you grow any higher?
Prosper or wither
The choice is now yours
Bound or severed
I’ve done all I could
What am i doing
I'm a squirrel in the cold
I should have listened to my mam
And done what i was told
But not me you see
I wanted to go into town
To look for nuts and goodies
Until a strong wind blew me down
I fell into a corner
All white with glistening snow
I hurt myself when i fell
I'm now so full of woe
My little eye's were closing
As the cold was making me shiver
Although i have a furry coat
I was starting to shake and quiver
I sensed a shadow approaching
A hand came down to me
He lifted me from the snow
A saviour he will be
He held me in a glove
The warmth came back to me
If he had not looked in the corner
What would they have found of thee
It's now well into spring
My savior's nursed me back
If i was as big as them
I would pat them on the back
If they could see me now
As i dance and run in the tree's
Where the city is just a memory
I'm so happy, alive and free
I read the lovely poem called " SAVING SHIVERS! (winter of '73) " by James
and i just so wanted to be the squirrel, and this is his reply.
Cupped-hands blessed the first winter snow –
That tasted like peppermint wind
The pines and aspens share secrets,
As they whispers what they know
Then, they giggled like schoolchildren
In the snowy playground – with the red
Brick schoolhouse off in the distance
Their cold faces blinked and blushed
Like a basket full of wild freckled strawberries
Suddenly, fresh pine cones fall to the ground;
They chuckle, laugh and then roll over,
Exposing their innocent souls to fresh blue sky,
This all appeared in the first winter snow
This, I am sure and still are
Crackle of frost underfoot
This snow covered wood
Where I met you...........
for the first time
Clouds of breathy air,
your cloak of deep blue,
you made me stop and stare
For, among the holly,
we both were looking for the same thing
This cold pale sky,
with no hint of spring
Your first look,
took my breath away
Your shy smile,
The sun shone.........
On that day.......
Woods of evergreen,
dusted with snow
wanting you so
warmed by mine
Your shy glance
How those blue eyes...
This love did flow,
on this walk,
on fresh fallen snow
So white and clear,
surrounded by trees of green
Woods of evergreen,
fresh fallen snow
Where our love can be seen
side by side,
Where I first met you,
on that winters day,
among the holly and snow
You had far to go,
seems so short so
I'm 51 today.
51 tomorrow, yay
Was 51 yesterday.
52 is months away,
And yes I'm thankful.
Although it's not my real birthday,
It kinda is in a certain way.
I'm still alive another day.
I had the notion to celebrate.
And be thankful.
Though it's not a holiday.
Thanksgiving has come and gone away,
I'm just alive today.
For that I'm thankful.
Honestly, I am not just trying to make these lines rhyme,
Or reflect upon the deep sublime.
I'm just grateful today to be alive.
I mean really thankful.
I'm not trying to wow you with philosophy,
Or impress you with theology.
It matters not at all to me.
I just feel thankful.
So tonight I take a walk outside,
I look up into the endless sky and then I breathe.
I breathe in deep,
And I say thank you.
And maybe not just to Who you think,
Man let's throw in the kitchen sink,
And include all who've touched my life, to whom I'm thankful.
Some of you I'm glad you're gone,
Frankly you stayed a bit too long
And some you the grave stole far too soon,
And yet I'm still thankful.
Today the living and the dead
You've both been right up inside my head,
And synergized this verbal thread.
For that I'm thankful.
I close my eyes and think of Tim, named David right there toward the end.
I always smile when I think of him,
And now I listen
I heard a siren going by,
I wonder who and wonder why,
Was it a wreck, did someone die?
Yet still I listen.
Neighbors dogs are going wild.
Was that the laughter of a child.
Seems like I can hear for miles.
Still I listen.
I hear the hi-way roar of cars.
Tho I have never heard the stars
Is there really life on Mars?
Shhh brain please shut up and listen!
The soft night whispers in my ears.
Pressing through my random fears,
I stand amazed at what I hear.
And now I wonder.
I open up my eyes and see as I feel this winter breeze
The silhouette of leafless trees.
I stand in wonder
Then I wonder about the first man to ever be,
Or the first time he looked up to see
The Milky Way the galaxies.
Did he wonder?
I wonder what he did
How he loved how he lived.
If he ever lost a friend?
Man oh man I wonder.
Was he the first to dig a grave?
How it sounded if he prayed?
How he fought?
How he played?
If that man could see us all today,
What would he say I wonder?
In ways was he a lot like me?
Did he sometimes fear what he could not see?
Did he create unseen walls
I stand and wonder.
Did he ever hurt the ones he loved?
Did life convince him not to trust?
My great grandfather lived
My DNA is shared with him.
I wonder how we are the same,
And I don't even know his name.
Still I wonder.
Will my great grand kids know my name?
Will it even matter who's to say?
Will they look up in wonder?
Will they listen?
Will they be thankful?
Not much I can leave to them
That would matter too much in the end.
I suppose the primal hope in man
Is the hope I hope lives on in them
I hope they wonder. About the universe.
I hope they listen. To life's unspoken verse.
I hope they're thankful. Even in midst of deepest hurts.
I hope they're thankful.
I hope they listen.
I hope they wonder.
And no matter what life hands them,
I hope they hope.
A land of ice and snow, a picture perfect postcard,
It is here I walk alone, lost in thought, of glories utter
Amazement surrounding me.
Draped across the pine branches of evergreen, frozen white
Lace glistens, in the December sun.
Raw wilderness lain exposed, on a canvas of bare natural beauty.
Freedom's unexplored world, lies outstretched before me,
In this my wintery wonderland.
Crisp is the wind, blowing against my skin, it sends
An icy chill downwards, but I notice not.
I'm a dreamer set adrift, engulfed by a poets
Yearning, to put words of inspiration, onto an empty page.
Heavy steps, crunch the layers texture beneath, nay
I'll remain still, soaking in this forest portrait.
Before these eyes, I'm unable to grasp everything,
There is to be seen, but ti’s a spiritual moment,
Of reflection, in clarity's vision.
The mountains breath, is a thin chilling mist,
A fine thin halo, placed upon rocky peaks majesty, by the
God's themselves, a majestic crowning of divine design.
Covenanting these exteriors hardened edge,
It gives a taste of harsh flavor, to this natural
Paradise left undiscovered.
The blue hews of the sky, are Chris-crossed by
The northern lights, aurora’s multicolored rainbows,
Dancing in the Alaskan horizon.
An echoing peace lives here, a quite tranquility,
Humanity has forgotten for progress.
It is a magical essence of solitude, that
Speaks to ones inner being, a purity in the
Meaning of existence.
Within my little cabin, I'll rest, beside the fire side,
Warming these aching bones.
But the mind remains alive and alert, sparked by
A higher powers kindling, a flame, ignited with imagination,
In this my wintery wonderland.
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
THE SNOW FLAKE
What happens to angels tears, as they fall from the
Heaven above, into diamonds of ice so are they
Transformed, turning, spinning in the atmosphere.
Until unique unto themselves, white pieces of
Frozen lace, perfections icy miracle, descending
From the blue hewed skies of Nirvana.
Covering the last leaf of fall, one by one
The power flakes glisten beneath the October sunshine.
Crystal shells of ice, freeze into water cylinders,
Forming sickles of decorations, that hang from
Every house and tree.
It is truly a winder wonderland, so beautiful
That the angels themselves come to behold,
What their teardrops have made, as a single
Feather falls from wings of grace, it to turns
To ice, and is blanketed beneath the freshly fallen snow.
Like an endless supply
White snow upon white snow
Cleanses grey sky
A flower grows from beneath a blanket
Of fine and purest white
It reaches toward the sun for warmth,
For heat and for the light
My love for you grows stronger still,
Despite the surrounding cold
My heart is yours, bartered gone
For yours has it been sold
Its petals shine from morning dew
Its stem grows stiff and strong
It stands strong through the freezing cold
It stands the winter long
I long for you, for your soft touch
I miss the way you smile
The longer that we stay apart
The longer every mile
The flower stretches through the snow
It reaches toward the sun
And now without you the color is gone
The flower's petals, dun
But as we talk, and as we learn
The flower comes back to life
The snow now melts and goes away
As you take away my strife
Spring is here and growth abounds
As you and I are one
We are together, we are in love
The snow for now is done
I see the future, in dreams I have
Of our life, long and true
I see the times where all I need
Are comforting words from you
I see the times when winter comes
As winter tends to do
But we still love, and we still live
And I do still love you
And so we live, with children ours
And a life of much to see
With love we live, to live we love
Happy together are we
I see the flower, older now,
But still strong with fresh new leaves
I see it growing, tall and strong
Reaching to the eaves
We are now old, as years have passed
But old together are we
And strong our love still today
As strong as it can be
I do not know?
Chase not what was autumn time,
Its vibrant colors that had once adorned.
Now fades away as the winter mourns.
But to savour thoughts like a fine old wine.
Across valley deep over moors and hill,
The Norse wind on his steed doth roar.
Through nook and cranny and frame of door,
With breath of ice like steel.
Ice maid for you enchant us so,
As you lay your cloak of winter down.
Across sleepy hamlets and the bustling towns,
Vestige remnants of the year now go.
© N Windle 2009
Hollow is the chilling winds of October,
Frozen solid is the lunar moon that illuminates the night,
Fears lost kindred roam the ice fields of limbo,
Under the clarity of forbidden warmth, that has been
Shielded beyond the reach of the spiritually deprived,
Spirit wonders drifting amongst the snow packs,
These lost members of humanity, hanging on the sheered
Edge of mankind’s reality, the doomed stalkers whom
Wailing cries haunt, split the chilling silence of winter
By depth degree, in an eerie shroud of the forgotten and
Hatred’s chains of malice’s intent drag behind them, these
Ghosts of winter, tangled roots of ignorance are left intertwined
Mangled amongst the shades of life’s regrets, clanging linkages
Of harden steel, the bass metal of kindness tarnished by greed’s
Deist, and financial lust for profits high cost in flesh and bone.
Shadow figures placing their hands of frost, against the window
Pains that gleam with the flickering lights of the seasonal
Celebration called Christmas.
Harken this message my friends. is it not the time for
Forgiveness, let us then the living raise a toast of holiday cheer,
In these beings honor, for the harsh road hey tread is a lonely
Venue unto nowhere.
Live each day to the fullest, let the true meaning of Christmas
Swell within your heart and envelope thy soul, and just maybe
The ghosts of winter will rest at peace at last.
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
Build me a temple high…high…high up where the sun can rise
Where good can shine and the evil die as a plant in winter time.
Let it rise
Let it die
Let it shine
Build it high up the moon
But under the sky
And let the sun shine
Through the skin that dims inner light
Let the light unfold the eyes
And see the beauty inside of this small world that wants to shine
Let the war be the plant that could die in winter time
Let it rise
Let peace in the world rise
High…high up like a bird flying up to the sky
Let it die
Let hate die
As a phoenix and be reborn as a flower
Full of scents and beauty instead.
Let it shine
Let our inner light shine
Let it shine through our skin and show us that we can light up the way without hate and
Let it rise
Let it die
Let it shine
Let the battle field turn into a garden
Let the soldiers be the flowers
And the ammunition be the fertilizing soil
Build me a temple high…high up the sky
To symbolize world peace.
Don’t rush take your time
until we find out that we can shine
Let our soul rise
Let our evil die
Let our ability to find world peace shine.
youth`s luminous graffiti,
drawn on winter`s wall.
A local park i walked
Just the other day
Surrounded by nature
In the snow kids played
I felt a feeling of joy
In this incredible grounds
This park of beauty
In a modern concrete surround
Nature in standing
In her winter stage
All the beautiful plants
Withstanding her rage
She mellows with time
As the spring appears
The winter snows melt
Is it her sorrowful tears
The buds appear
Enriched with her sun
Her vistas of bloom
Have just begun
But around the corner
Another season awaits
The golden browns of autumn
Await their fate
In the local park i walked
Just the other day
Thinking of the marvels she brings
To us, every single day
There is a mystery in the heavens. It is a very special story about the formation of the most delicate pieces of artwork that fall ever so daintily from the skies. This is the mystery of the snowflake. This is a mystery from God!
Snowflakes are like people according to Father God. Each one is so very unique from the other. Not a single one forms the same way nor does any look exactly like the other. Each snowflake has its own design and dimension and each snowflake becomes exquisite in God’s perfect timing. Never has there been a more beautiful revelation for the children of God.
Snowflakes fall from the heavens as miniature heavenly masterpieces of artwork. As the elements shape and have their influence upon each delicate ice molecule, they spin and they spin and they fall to the ground. One snowflake may look very similar to another, but to the Creator who sees every snowflake’s splendor individually, a different story is told. While one snowflake may have a star-shaped pattern, and another like a leaf, they all have microscopic branches like on a mighty oak tree. Each branch is spun ever so uniquely. Each snowflake a magnificent design from heaven.
So the next time you are outside in a snow flurry, rejoice at all the masterful pieces of artwork that are floating all around you. And if one by chance happens to fall upon your cheek, smile and say “Thank you for sending these rare ice crystals to me.
Wind has stopped blowing
the storm has finally passed
serene calm ahead.
Copyright © Cynthia Jones
Hither I stand, at crossroads,
And then I gaze, at the yonder end-
The vague horizon from where I began;
And all that I may ever deem
Is that- my days
Have been a waken dream.
Hither I stand, at the edge of my dream;
Then I wonder, at the depth of my trance-
An adventurous journey through the wondrous woods;
An idyllic stroll through the vicissitudinous meadow;
And from the final station as I depart,
All that I can ever say, is that
Perpetuation has been a rouge
Of fleeting phases of my life.
St. Stephen’s College.
Finding an image to focus on
My mind lifts my soul with song
Simple... my perceptions changing
Negative vibes rearranging....
Yellow daffodils spring to mind
So early a blossom, winter shines~
Sweet and hollow its trumpet appears
Soaking up sunshine as snow disappears
Crisp and bold flawless in scheme
Long winter's magical dream
Blossom Daffodil all around my lawn
Adamantly filling the crisp damp dawn
Boldly obvious blossoms in snow
Complicates winter with her glow
Daffodil arrivs at winters' end
Offering hope to a despairing friend
There were seven Indian Government schools. All built alike. The
one I'm writing about is Spring Creek. He Dog, Soldier Creek and White River,
Grass Mountain, Two Kettle, and Black Pipe were the other schools. The
Headquarters for these schools was at Rosebud, South Dakota.
On some summer evenings we were able to talk our mothers into
hiking to the lookout tower. We followed the ankle deep sandy trail road to the
cliff north of the school., A canyon lay at the foot of the tower but we climbed the
bluff. I don't know why we didn't explore the canyon unless it seemed dark and
sinister. The footing was better once we reached the summit. The closer we got
to the tower the taller it grew and standing at the foot of the steps looking up was
easier than getting to the top and looking down. My mother didn't usually make it
to the top because she didn't like heights. But she didn't mind being left behind
this time. We never could get into the building at the top because it was locked,
but we could climb the steps to the very last one. Even my little sister managed
to elude mom and followed us to the top.
From the bluff we could look down on the garden. My aunt grew a
huge garden and canned the produce for the hot meals served the school
children. We kids didn't work in the garden very often, but we looked for the arrow
heads and fossils. Which, I suspect the adults probably considered the best
place for us.
At the end of the road, living in shack, was Old Lady Grease. I have a
vague recollection of seeing her. Tiny, frail, wrinkled and gray headed is all I can
In spring and fall we were in school in Kansas.
It's Christmas now. Cold and usually snowy. We were in a winter
I'm standing at the fire escape window. The ghostly pale full moon is
illuminating the naked arms of the trees as they shiver in the wind, swaying to
and fro as if dancers in a ballet. I listen to the winter sounds. The frigid air
enhances their sharpness. The ax's thud echoes up the canyon as one of the
Indians across the river chops another supply of wood. One of his peers beats
on the drum. It is one-thirty a. m. but the thin walls of the tents do not keep the
cold out. Day or night this chore must be attended to for survival.
After long day`s play
with doves ,they fly in the light
Let`s rest in the love
What If… Christmas Never Came???
What if Christmas never happened?
What if Christmas never came?
Things around here would be different!
It wouldn’t be the same!
What if the baby Jesus was never born in a manger?
Mankind would be in serious trouble. We’d all be in danger!
If the baby Jesus wasn’t born. There would be no nativity.
We wouldn’t be able to display this during our “festivity.”
It’s almost like this now!
It’s an “ever increasing business.”
It seems like nearly everyone wants
“Christ out of Christmas!”
Why does it seem like Christmas is
losing it’s true meaning?
The very words; “Merry Christmas,”
seem to be quickly disappearing!
Many say; “Happy Holiday.”
They worry they may “offend.”
Having a “holiday” without Christ….
We need to put Jesus Christ back into
our CHRISTmas season!
He is what Christmas is about! HE is the very reason!
May we all take some time to rejoice in our savior’s birth.
May there be shouts of JOY! From the corners of the earth!
Let’s not take Christ out of our joyous celebration!
We need him so much right now!
All over this great nation!
May we bring to him a heart of love
for everything he’s done.
As we bring honor to Christ. God’s precious son!
May we continually offer to him a heart filled with praise!
Not only at Christmas time… But all of our days!
By Jim Pemberton
He unwittingly hovers
...blankets of subjective weather
Plastering his artic tundra
Bandaging white clouds together
...withholding ill trepedation
Refocused on our tantalization
Frosting earth's core
.... with an icy show
Monstrously protecting grounds below~
...napping numb spirits
With his icy mantra of sickles and cold
Old Man Winter's snowflakes unfold
Frost bitten chills triumphantly bold
A frothy iced message
...with wisdom to acquire
...conjuring those with a hidden desire
Here he laughs
...taunting from within
Old Man Winter is relieved again~
As our spent energies are woken
He does not speak...
...but has already spoken
His gift...a dormant spectacle found
As winter coats
....our frosted ground
More time now
.....with winter so cold
....to ponder wonders untold~
The priestess had seen it all well; she had seen it coming.
The Snow Goddess had spoken to her in a dream.
“How could this be?!” the priestess asked herself.
The human nature in her could not make sense of what her visions entailed.
The reality came to life in the night without the moon, but a night full of stars! The malevolent tribe of the wolves had broken the gates, and killed thousands of knights. They sought the blood of the Queen; the priestess herself! Her divine soul was too much for the vile and dark wolf warriors to bear.
The invaders were ten feet tall, with muscles as strong as steel, and teeth as mammoth as elephant tasks! Warriors of the Snow Kingdom were no match for such an army.
“I leave my Kingdom’s fate to you my Goddess…” the priestess whispered in despair. As the wolf warriors reached the foot of a big mountain, the auroras began to appear. They were of different colors like rainbow! Their visibility invited a tremor that created avalanches, that buried the entire giant army to their deaths. The Queen’s vision had come true!
brought over the city
a fine and cold rain
thunder through the quarrel corners
hatred seeds on the fronts
the uninvited’s apple chopped
by the chatterbox tongue
thread for the treasures’seekers
the dragon has killed the cranes and the mandarine ducks
are mere glass nicknacks
in a junk shop window
hungry for the sun
the seagulls peck the rays
thrown on the window panes
carnival costumes are walking
as the music of a gramophone
on the leaves’skeletons
synthetic peacock feathers
mandolines and flutes
shaddows on a mythless coin
the morning star-on top of the steeple
reads the holy books
masses on water circles wake up
the sparrows in the ice castles
untouched by sympathy
stays knelt in the battle spittle
the warriors(in wierd clothes:outside males,inside females)
fascinated by death
the little boys and girls –they do not
know what they are-maybe sparrows
others think they are stags
most of them are sure they are warriors
the only child destined to the pain
from his stone tower
watches how the night struggles
to wrest the time its identity
(translated by Margareta Mioc )
A special time
When the sun shone bright
In clear winter light
Darted back and forth
The splash of red
Upon the snow
As they were being fed
In a magical world
Belonging to you and me
Christmas , came
In our hearts
The joy of giving
Beneath the tree
In a castle
To the right of the Winding Stair
A great tree grew
A mighty fir
In soft winter light
The candles lit
Upon a tree
Golden feathers from Heartstone Eagles
Were put on the tree
Ribbons and lace from the Queens
Glowing berries from the Kings
A living tree
Filled with colour
Decorated with love
In a magical world
Under a tree
In soft winter light
Kings and Queens
Gifts of love
Passed on through
Under a tree
A castle, lit
The love felt, too
A single touch
You give your self
They share all of you
As they share too
This is a Heartstone Christmas
For what is given
Under a tree
There is no greater gift
Then giving all of you
The light inside glowed
You wanted this,
and it showed
I want to share
A Heartstone Christmas
Hold your hand
See the Northern Lights
For a Christmas at Heartstone
Is a time for love
A time to be free
Where the heart knows
For it shows
Chirup, Chirupup is now gone away
For the Cricket now sleeps in the deep woods
Deep down under a bed of dry decaying leaves
Awaiting the spring's warmth to call__ come
Out across the now no-fence pasture
Lies a giant pan of Rice Krispies cookies
White on tan the dead crispt grass made so by the cold hoary frost
Chilled so that it groans from the cold penetrating deep within the ground
The whole earth awaits that warm sun who takes his time
Slowly slipping back closer up, up, up to the Northern Hemisphere
Will spring come to renew or will those deep woods remain dark and deep
Inviting all eyes to see inside the open venerable vault of clearing
Those dark deep woods encourage exploring
To clear away all the tangled briars, dead barren ideas that need purging
Open clear up those winter woods for new growth of spring
New ideas on which to encourage the grow of the poetic mind
Been in winter long enough in that cold barren woods
Trapped in the cold lingering by the fire of hearth's contentment
Now is the time to escape_be fresh new
Spring _bring on the novel
Winter winds blow all around.
I’m astonished by the sounds of Jingle Bells and reindeer stomps.
All of this should never stop.
Snow lies on the ground, if only that weren't too profound.
Time only leads to decay, but not on Christmas, not today.
You should see the angels pray.
Toy trains, and rag dolls are the things kids used to want.
But time has changed, yes so have children…
Santa seems as if a villain.
So much fighting, so much crying, it sounds as if the kids are dying.
“I want money, I want fame, and these toys are just so lame.”
But that’s the product we provided.
Second chances are no more, Santa’s plot we wait for.
He’s sick of this, he doesn't care, it’s as if he’s not wanted here.
He gets ready to take it all back….
There’s still one toy left in his sack, it’s for a little girl, half a world away.
Now how could he have missed this, on the perfect Christmas day?
He turns around, not time for war.
This toy, the girl is waiting for… It’s not a toy like you’d expect.
She didn't ask for electronics, or stupid games such as Sonic.
She just wanted one small thing…
She’s waiting for something EXTRA special this gloomy day.
In a bed she sits and stares, at the window near a chair.
She’s so weak, and all alone.
She doesn't even have a real home, not where there are bright lights anyways.
They've decorated a weeping willow, the only tree around the “home”.
So she has lights to see.
It’s Christmas after all, but there’s no way to calm the raging sea.
She’s dying, it won’t take much longer, and she doesn't care about the tree.
She needs a new heart extra bad.
So, Santa’s bringing her the one thing, that will stop her parents from being sad.
He rushes to the hospital in his golden sleigh, and climbs right down the vent,
He’s saving Christmas today.
Santa rushes in just in time, finds a doctor, the girl is dying.
It’s not what he usually does, but he stays and watches as they save her life.
He waits for her to wake up.
“Santa, you saved my life, oh thank you so much! I needed my heart to be touched.”
He just smiles, and kisses her hand. He’s so glad he didn't destroy the land.
Christmas is still a special day.
There’s no more sorrow, no, not today. Santa smiles though some are still ungrateful.
There’s that one child, standing in the snow, her life can now be started in the evening glow. That’s life for the grateful, loving, caring, and the thankful. Most of the time Santa just gives toys. For all the good girls and boys. But not today, and not tomorrow, once a year he gets rid of sorrow. So sleep tight and say your prayers, Christmas time is but once a year.