The church bells are ringing calling us to prayer
I held my mothers hand as we made our way there
The streets were full of shadows as dawn was so shy
Felt cold despite my coat, wished in bed I'd still lie
I spied the spire now rising tall above the town
Dad glanced at his watch, hated being late, face a frown
He'd served in the war and liked punctuality
As mournful bells stopped ringing we made our entry
We found our seats at the side just as the choir sang
Stood up when the priest spoke, then the service began
He talked of Jesus's birth and dying on the cross
A crib was set up, candles lit and brass all gloss
The service lasted quite some time, I fell asleep
Cuddled up with mum I do not recall a peep
I woke when hearing the final hymn when sung
The we all left the church and bells of joy were rung
I had heard nothing of baby in the manger
Or how Jesus preached to all despite the danger
But was eager to get home to open presents
Now years later somehow it all seems to make sense
What a strange world we live with war and peace still here
War is encouraged to weaken and install fear
Much false news spoke often, wild rumors reign supreme
Feuding is encouraged and peace but a wild dream
But home is full of people and they all love me
So while mother makes our lunch I play happily
Father Christmas brought presents sitting by the tree
Christmas is great for boys and I was only three
Image found at Pixabay.com
A strange world indeed! But it's good that little kids can still feel loved and happy. Another enjoyable tale, thanks Robin.
ReplyDeleteYour poem reminds me how much the world has changed, Robin. It also reminds me of a lovely day spent with daughter, son-in-law and grandson, just before Christmas, in Winchester, where we visited the wonderful cathedral and its Christmas market, and stopped to listen to the choir practising for a carol service later in the day.
ReplyDeleteI love how you have used rhyme in this poem..it makes the memory even more enchanting
ReplyDeleteIt's a strange world indeed! Your poem reminds me to cherish what we have and not take anything for granted ❤️
ReplyDeleteI love how you look back and forth across the years, trying to make sense of the manger-born baby coming to bring peace, but there is still no peace. Are we so afraid of that offer of peace that we would prefer endless wars?
ReplyDeleteWonderful memories of childhood Robin.
ReplyDeleteI remember, as a little thing, opening my presents on Christmas morning and resenting the church visit that soon followed as I wanted to play with my new toys.
I think Christmas was more special all those years ago, but maybe it was no warmer than it is today, maybe the joy the anticipation of childhood wanes as we get older...?
Anna :o]
The world had taken terrible turns, indeed. Thank goodness for moments (days) like this one, for children that get to be children for another day...
ReplyDeleteA wonderful memory of Christmas past. Innocence of childhood is a good escape from these days. Thank you for sharing, Robin.
ReplyDeleteIt's amazing how vivid and sweet memories of our childhoods always are. Home is, indeed people. And all thanks to our parents (and caregivers) who made those days worth remembering.
ReplyDeleteLooking through the eyes of innocence, ones that can sleep peacefully when all around is noise. Looking back on those days they always seem so full of joy.
ReplyDeleteWe do live in strange times. Thank goodness we have havens of peace we can escape to.
ReplyDeleteWhat a wonderful image of the child confident in being loved. That is what will make him strong enough to live through the harsher realities of life and still have a haven inside himself.
ReplyDeleteLovely Robin. Sweet memories indeed.
ReplyDeleteThis is one of the sweetest poems you've written. I love the feeling of safety, warmth and love at home.
ReplyDeleteAww, this is such a sweet memory. Thanks for sharing. Also, I like the idea of the "shy" dawn.
ReplyDeleteWar and feuding is encouraged.. and yet this is balanced by the warmth and love of family. Thank goodness we have homes to keep our sanity. A lovely poem.
ReplyDeleteThis is so sweet, especially the closing lines. I remember going to Midnight Mass on Christmas Eve. One year my sister, age seven, played Mary in the school manger performance, with her long blonde hair. Thank heavens children's worlds are in the heart of their homes and families and they are unaware for a few blissful years of the bigger picture, which is the stuff of nightmares these days. Always lovely to read you, Robin.
ReplyDeletehome is people, home is family. how good it is to be a child. only when we grow older will we learn what a strange world we are living in.
ReplyDeleteyour poem is a real delight to read.
...to be three again. Sweet poem
ReplyDeleteSingable!
ReplyDelete