No candles burned in windows,
no lights on a Christmas tree.
We were two happy children,
my brother, Jay and me.
Father Christmas was coming tonight
and we had not a thing.
But still we hung our stockings
and Granny helped us sing.
We sang of the birth of Jesus
and Jingle bells of course.
And we went on a sleigh ride
pulled by our old horse.
The windows were frozen over
with patterns from the frost.
For these simple things we enjoyed,
there was no cost.
Ginger bread lay on our plate,
milk in a glass from our cow.
Deep down inside we were happy
without the things we have now.
Why we hung our stockings was the hope
that late that night,
Father Christmas would have something,
to make Christmas bright.
Sometimes Jay would find marbles
and a corn shuck doll for me.
But not once as we grew up,
did we have a lovely Christmas tree.
Hard ribbon candy and new shoes
always magically appeared.
This kept us excited
and hoping as each Christmas neared.
Granny told us stories
about places we couldn't believe.
And as Christmas time came closer
she would start to weave.
The things that came from her loom
were meant to keep us warm.
Sometimes God would bless us
with a lovely white snowstorm.
No store bought toys were ever in our stockings,
only homemade love.
And many prayers went to God
as we knelt and looked above.
Those were the memories,
that came to my mind today.
And the way we got to watch,
all the wildlife while at play.
I wouldn't trade the smell of apples,
oh what sweet release
Because Christmas, when I was a child
meant love and peace.
~ Norma Marek ~
© November 19, 2001
