Notes About The Poem
November-4-2025
December Days Poetry Contest
Sponsor- Karen Jones
As December Comes- DD
When December comes,
memories stir up unsought.
Once caught in its whirl
I sink down deep until inebriated
December brings in its wake
baskets 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, if 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
and the Magi, shepherds and their herd
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.
On every Christmas, our house
would become an extended family
with our uncle and aunt and their children
of almost our own age group.
Preparing an inventory of things to do
was the greatest fun for us children.
Playing hide and seek and going on a trek
to the neighbouring hill were the two things
that always figured in the wish list.
Though there were no presents
under the Christmas tree to be unwrapped
and no fanfare as of now,
how I relish the unconditional love my parents gave
that I still feast on when I starve in life’s sandy dunes.
Festive occasions spark such nostalgia
that I long for the warmth, got as a child
from my parents who are now dearly missed
and my siblings scattered in places, out of easy reach.
As waves of memories from the past,
retreat and throw back relentless,
when blood calls to blood,
their echoes beat hard on the walls of my heart.
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