Christmas Wish
Sitting in rags all tattered and torn
He gazed through the window and loved what he saw
A raging coal fire, and some children to play
Just what he wished for on a cold winters day
The frost bit his finger and nibbled at his nose
and his shoes, thin as paper, could not warm his toes
But the warmth and the love that the family there told
Reached into his heart and blessed his wee soul
The dear little beggar boy was welcomed inside
To share christmas gifts and a log of yuletide
A meal that he'd dreamed of was served in a dish
And the sweet little child got his christmas wish
Sat near the roadside, a cup in his hand
sat a merchant, a peasant, a pitiful man
Selling flowers to towns folk, from graves freshly plucked
He watched as the villagers tucked into roast duck
Nose pressed to the entrance, inhaling the feast
He licked his dry mouth as they carved the cooked beast
A little old lady arose from her pew
and gladly she told him "There's plenty for you"
All grubby and dusty with an ache in her back
A frail, crinkled lady read palms from a shack
Not making much money, spending winter alone
She watched families rejoicing, and wished for her own
Trying to remember, a life led before
With her sister and daughters, before she was poor
A kind gent passed by her and decided to spend
his christmas or longer, for she needed a friend
Sat at the butchers and begging for meat
Dusty the mongrel was just under their feet
Just a scavenger, all dirty, they shoo'd him away
and he got used to the harshness of being homeless each day
Tucked beneath hedges, to escape winters bite
He flopped down his head, and he slept for the night
Dreaming of children who'd bring him a bone
Rescued by a schoolgirl who gave him a home
What do you dream of, when you're sat all alone
Money and chocolate, a new mobile phone
Or the simplest things that are taken for granted
Like a home and a family, to be loved and be wanted
Do you think of others or not have a care
when enjoying your holidays, do you have time to spare
See the dear little beggar boy at your windowsil
Let him in, spare a second, 'tis the season of goodwill
Copyright © Melanie Jennings | Year Posted 2014
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