Selection Box (Poetry)

No longer young, we’ve reached that age
where Christmas has us looking back
all misty-eyed as we engage
and travel down nostalgia’s track

We conjure childhood’s sense of awe
and lose ourselves in how it felt
that looking forward weeks before
the dream of snow too swift to melt

All idealized — the happy throng
of family in festive mood
gathered close for wine and song
the table generous with food

Jokes and laughter — party games
the uncles merry, aunties flushed
the magic glow of candle flames
and later, when the house was hushed

How comfort settled with a creak
of wood and gentle snores arose
despite the night stretched long and bleak
where frost now glittered, gutters froze

And up above that Christmas star
imagined from the story told
beamed down on all — both near and far
and spread its pure celestial gold

As children ours were simple joys
for treats were rare so wishes ran
to modest lists of sweets and toys
our wants no more expensive than

A doll, a football, crayons, bricks
a nurse’s outfit, cowboy hat
a book on how to do card tricks
a box of paints, a cricket bat

If we were lucky we would find
those things we’d underlined in red
wrapped and labelled, Santa-signed
each stocking filled while we’re in bed

And Christmas day was heaven then
if memory can be believed
those toffees, hankies, books or pen
all gifts were gratefully received

The grown-ups let us have our fun
for they recalled their childhoods too
talked much the same as we’ve now done
as wistful hearts are sure to do

For all things change from year to year
small histories in detail set
while memory retains its cheer
the gloomy aspects we forget