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Poem

Gloom shrouded their homestead
no one knocked, just looked instead
Christmas stole their value of pride
curtains were closed, no presents to hide

provisions were spread across the table
most were cans without a label
they sat by the fire, stories were read
prayers of hope before going to bed

the smoke in the chimney seem a little rough
the firebox was low there was just not enough
a woodman saw and smelled the smoke
it was gray and needed a stoke

He filled the wood box with good maple wood
he offered to do whatever he could
he told the folks acts of kindness brings people together
and sharing is for those in need of whatever

the town folk heard the deed of the man
who decided to help the family by lending a  hand
the family said “but we are poor on the other side of the tracks”
‘no one wants to face us, they only turn their backs’

the folks gathered and built a bridge over the tracks  
paving the way for generosity and whatever it lacks
being kind said the woodsman is from being wise
t’was when the smoke got into my eyes

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