photo credit: jonatkinson.com
Pure snowflakes fall upon a dust-gray street:
Love's beauty, scattered by a Baby's fingers.
The softened, hov'ring winter darkness lingers:
A gentle life, so sweet to me, so sweet!
Clear, poignant carols echo on the air,
Sung by the pale-lipped children of December.
With breathless joy, always will I remember
Their angel-sounds, so fair to hear, so fair.
The gifts pile high under the Christmas tree.
The gaiety grows greater every day.
Into my dreams, a starved child finds his way:
"A crust of bread for me, a crust for me."
The thought of him remains all season through -
So far away, so little I can do.
This is so beautiful with its built in echoes and its honesty! I give crust and crust, and would give so much more. Thanks, Sherry. I'm glad you are gpong through your poems back to the beginning.
ReplyDeleteYour poem is beautifully sad.
ReplyDeleteThere are many children here we can help.
How wonderful that you have kept this poem and shared it with us. It remains ever relevant and so poignant to think of your school girl heart yearning to help others, especially knowing the generous woman you are. You continue to create awareness with your writing.
ReplyDeletesherry, this was written 10 years before i born...ha....smiles...so cool that you still have it....a crust of bread...he is one to remember...esp this time of year...
ReplyDeleteWhat a good poet yOu were then, and your ideas are still so much the same. Merry Christmas, Friend.
ReplyDeleteThat was such a thought back then.. As a kid I recall the images from the wars of Biafra - but that came later I think. Have a wonderful Christmas Sherry.
ReplyDelete