About the Poem
Each year, our local newspaper runs stories about helping out the less fortunate during the holiday season. One year they asked for stories describing special acts of kindness. While not a story, I submitted this poem.
Christmas Is For Sharing
|by Poet deVine
|I turned out the lights and lit the tree,
Then settled back, just Rover and me.
The family is scattered here and there,
Christmas is lonely . . . but I don't really care.
No noisy unwrapping of gifts will I hear,
No stacks of dishes after dinner this year.
The lights flicker, the tinsel gleams,
The perfect Christmas eve, or so it seems.
Then at my door came a timid tapping,
Startled, I jumped, as though I was napping.
I opened the door and to my amazement,
A small crowd stood on my front pavement.
An old man, wrinkled and gray,
Stepped forward as though he had something to say.
We thank you kindly for having us
To share the joy your Christmas.
I stepped back and they filed past,
There were eighteen people, from first to last.
The laughter welled up as they settled down,
They looked at my face, and saw my grim frown.
You want us here, don't you sir?
Asked a child quietly, as they began to stir.
Well, I don't know, I started to say,
Then wondered, why not? It's almost Christmas day.
I had no turkey with them to share
So I fixed what I had - they didn't care.
Hamburgers, hot dogs, tuna casserole too.
I even served a can of Spam or two.
After we ate, they began to sing,
And suddenly, you know, it was the strangest thing -
The tree seemed brighter, the air more clear..
I began to fill up with holiday cheer.
I dug in the closet for discarded clothes,
For books and toys - I'd always kept those.
I handed them out, a smile on my face,
I really never had such joy in this place.
I settled them down - wherever - to bed . . .
A child's prayer was softly being said.
The lights on the tree reflected the glow
Of the happiest Christmas I'll ever know.
I awoke from the dream to find myself alone . .
I immediately jumped up and reached for the phone.
I dialed quickly, my heart beating fast.
The true joy of Christmas, I'd found at last.
You see, no matter how little you give,
It brings joy to those with no place to live.
So open your home and open your heart
Christmas is . . . the place to start.
Unfortunately, this author has failed to maintain a valid email address with us. If you know the author, please ask them to contact us with a current email address.
If you especially appreciated this author, we'll be happy to show you where you might find more of their poems
4 Visitor Comments
All Visitor Comments on this poem have been posted by people who wanted to let the author know the poem touched their hearts. If you would like to leave a comment of your own, please Vote for this poem.