The night was darkly,
The streets solitary,
And the stars in their distant paths,
Looked down solemnly,
Upon the dead leaves of a forlorn season.
Children move in and out of their parent's home.
In twos and threes,
They stand in the shadows ,
Whispering and prying into the heart of one another,
Wondering whose parents were super human enough,
To bring home Christmas gifts.
Inside the homes, other members of the families,
Gather before TV sets,
Listening to Christmas Carols that make no meaning,
To their lean pockets.
Cheap wines still adorned their beckoning shelves,
In shopping malls.
One and all, is amused,
That there is no somber cry of goats and chickens,
As at other times,
In their neighbors compound.
This Christmas is different!
It is the endless wind of disdain and distraught,
Joy is fled from our midst,
Borne on the wings of bad leadership.