A very Happy Christmas to all elderly parents and grandparents like us, who are visited by old time memories of past Christmastime....this poem is for you.... Grandpa’s Christmas Wish A very quiet night beside a Christmas tree A grandpa had his eyes just fixed on the chimney; Many past Christmas years paraded like movies Those were the times he had a complete family. The time when he had wished for material trappings, All the things he worked for to acquire many things The things not for himself but for little darlings His lovely wife and home, they were his everything. Christmas time in his days were important to him, His family would all look forward to that day Expected gifts and foods were the treasures he’d bring Their table was so full, wrapped boxes were waiting. Everyone looked at him as ideal father An ideal husband and a great bread winner, He loved his family and his many close friends Success was on his hands yet there‘s still yearnings. An ambitious father very much like the rest The money he’s earning not enough, so it seemed, He dared to go abroad and worked in Middle East That was the only way more gold be within reach. His luck was on his side, his dreams were all fulfilled Built a nice house for wife, while children had college; Then children found new homes in faraway places He and his aging wife were left just by themselves. Then one Christmas evening while he was on the phone Returning their children’s good wishes and carols His wife failed to hear them, she retired just so soon That very Christmas eve, the old man was alone. His children decided to bring him to their place, He was glad to see them, but he was not so pleased; He couldn’t live alone, that was a rule they stressed So in a foreign land, he let himself be served. The aging grandfather was like a strayed leaf Letting himself be flowed wherever he’s carried; He was far luckier than all his many friends Yet, he felt he’s empty, there was something he missed. Are these his found laurels he worked for all these years? An expected reward for his sacrifices? This place is not his own, his children sold what’s his, Here is just his body in strange room he’s placed. And then just slowly teardrops rolled down his cheeks Tears made their ways along the tired and wrinkled face His eyes are still fixed on the nearby furnace As if he was waiting for someone to emerge. He had never let go of his wife’s memory, The one treasure that’s left, his heart always carries Now he wishes she’d come through that small chimney Like a white winged angel, stands by the Christmas tree.
Posted on: Thu, 25 Dec 2014 13:54:13 +0000
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