“Granddad, do you
remember Christmases past?”
“Yes son I do,
even though they´ve flown so fast”,
“Please tell me
Granddad, what were they like?
What were your
presents, did you ever get a bike?
What did you eat,
good things fit for a prince´s table?
“Tell me Granddad,
all about that babe in the stable”.
“Presents were few
son, all made by my father´s hand,
Rag dolls for
girls, from left over scraps & filled with sand,
A wooden top for
me, hewn, carved & painted bright red,
Left with a sugar
mouse, Christmas Eve, at end of the bed,
All food was scarce,
but always hot & our tummies filling,
And mum said that all
tasted good, if the heart was willing.”
“Then, Jesus was the
reason why Christmas was celebrated,
And his story, in front
of the fire, by Dad, was always narrated,
We had so little back
then & yet we always shared so much,
Then, all was done
with love, hugs, heart, soul, such & such,
Son, Christmases were
so very different, way, way back when,”
“Granddad, please take
me with you, to the Christmases of then”.
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