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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required “Is there any gift more precious than the gift of love by those who blessed us with the gift of life”! by the Poet When December comes, Memories stir up unsought.... Once caught in its whirl I sink down deep until inebriated December brings in its wake Basket full of recollections which take me Back to the days at my parental home, Where, as a child, celebrated Christmas With my siblings and my parents I haven’t forgotten those haunting days And never will I as long as sanity sticks. To my parents, Christmas meant waking up early Putting on the best dress kept ready And going to church to attend the mass While they devoutly partook of the ceremonies We children, lured by the sparkling lights Would peer into the crib set ready at one corner To have a look at infant Jesus lain on hay With mother Mary and Joseph on either side More than piety, what governed us then Were the thoughts of making a crib Also the yummy goodies awaiting us at home And the planned visits of relatives Back from church my mother Would sweat and strain the whole day Making special dishes for the Christmas feast Yummy delights and a mouth drooling dessert The only gift, we got as children in those days I still remember the glow of contentment On my mother's face while serving them for the family Those were days when less was more Though there were no presents Under the Christmas tree to be unwrapped And no fanfare as of now How I relish the unconditional love they gave That I still feast on while starving on life’s sandy dunes Can it ever match with any glossy gifts of today? Festive occasions spark such nostalgia That I long for the warmth, got as a child From my parents who are now dearly missed Also my siblings scattered in places, out of easy reach The lovely memories they left behind Are deemed as the best gift, I can ever get And I tuck away that bundle of bliss under my pillow To take out at will, as and when I recline on my bed Any attempt at salvaging the deep passion That nestled in my heart then, is futile ~Placed Second~ A Christmas Gift Memory Poetry Contest Sponsor- B.J. Legros Kelley
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