We Who’ve Lived Many Christmases
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This one is sad but true to experience for many on holidays, yet hope exists.
Tis time for Christmas,
aches and all.
We have a stake
in a babe’s nativity -
swaddled all
in God’s creativity.
Star-wonder.
Moonlight.
Crestfallen snow white.
Buried beneath happiness
are many who have fallen asleep.
We must keep up
traditions of light,
merry and bright.
Our teeth must glisten,
and our tongues must tell tales,
for a new generation to listen.
We who’ve lived many Christmases
must hang our tears in stockings,
decorate our trees with memories.
Each generation thinks their gifted
something new. The old is regifted.
Our eyes sparkle, ever brighter,
like Benjamin Button
when he’s born old
and dies in infanthood.
Both sides of a copper penny shine,
then the luster subsides,
but the soul resides
in a Christmas-y place
with pearls and lace,
streets of pure gold,
where nothing gets old.
Tis time for Christmas…
Hope and all…
Copyright © Kim Rodrigues | Year Posted 2024
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