This is a wonderful time of the year, more holiday gatherings and parties and time with friends, family and family than one could hope for; kids out of school or returning from college, lights, trees, and the inner glow that can only come from the gift of peace that this poet hopes all can receive and share. May the Christmas Spirit be with you always and my the magic of Santa Claus flow with each heart beat in each and every vein. Merry Christmas to all and Happy Holidays to all.
All of us come into this world unable to sit, stand, crawl, flush or talk,
Helpless, with only a blank sheet craving for all experiences to unlock,
We come into this world as a child and sadly many of us at the end so leave
And yet for many of us too quickly we lose the child’s skill to believe.
Slowly, but surely, as the child matures,
The childhood fantasies and tales not long endure.
The Easter Bunny who leaves the baskets at our door,
It is only a question of time when he will exist no more.
The tooth fairy fights the longest for no child will money forsake,
Leave a tooth under the pillow and dollars in to rake.
But the hardest loss to accept is that of Santa Claus,
The jolly bearded man with gifts all children hold in awe,
Look only to a child’s eye opening to a child’s forming soul,
Of changing fears and dreams laid on to innocent goals.
How hard to retain the excitement of the sound of reindeer hoofs
With the speed of light laden with gifts to touch down upon a roof.
With stockings empty and cookies left out last night
Now filled yet only crumbs—rubbing eyes so tired to catch a Santa sight
Eyes sparkling like searchlights in the dark running down the stairs
Cameras clicking, parents beaming, there is only magic in the air.
The spirit of giving, the sense of peace, the need to share
Whether the cupboard is full or the cupboard is bare.
Not just the presents in colored ribbons and wraps
But at least on this day, the gift of peace that will not lapse.
Sadly with TV, internet, and a wireless global room,
Laws of physics, peers and flight the spirit may entomb.
The rational side quickly, too quickly invades,
The childhood belief waivered and strayed.
Pushed by not the thoughts of peace to comfort and warm,
But the need to rescue the malls from the red inks’ harm.
But if one believes our adult frames transport of our soul with our minds,
A hope and thought on how the belief in Santa may never unwind,
It is to try to daily give more than to take, in order for more to receive.
The thread of giving, peace and goodwill to each day always weave
Life’s fabric through the spring, summer and the final frost,
With a Christmas spirit so woven will never be lost,
We will all hear the tinkle of sleigh bells in the night time air,
Ending another day of giving, another day we sought to share.
Michael P. Ridley
© December 15, 2009