(Dedicated to a Wattpad Writer. AlexPaul1 Britain)
It's Christmas,
where is the tree?
the lights, and coloured balls?
The tree is bare, green and still grows,
not cut. There are three, trees
growing, still alive for each year that I didn't
have this Christmas in my house.
Not the Christmas ,
has come to my heart,
Not the one that greets,
a fat round man, with a bag
full of goodies for the children.
Not all children get a present,
that giving spirit never came to those that have died
even before they could understand,
about, that man, in a red and white suit
no presents came.
Just bombs and mortar,
a crazy man with a gun on
a road that never ends,
just a camp of lost peoples displaced,
no gift of life, no clean water, no electric light,
no tree, no feast,
I struggle with this, hypocrisy.
so the tree grows still, decorated with nature’s own
happiness, hear the birds how they sing,
our world turned and a new day begins,
and "not the Christmas" is pushed from my heart.
So where are the presents?
What am I going to give,
to the ones I love?
I will cook them a meal that they wouldn't forget,
lay out a five courses, of pure over indulgence
in our home of elegance, or just my humble kitchen table,
I will serve, five courses, to those I love.
(truth be told, humble table, is more my style.)
mm, a cool , ouzo, soaked and cloudy with ice
dips, with yoghurt and garlic, decorated with dill
and yes and something red, beetroot dip,
pureed, and served with a dollop of sour cream,
homemade bread, it will be a dream,
capsicums, roasted and drizzled with olive oil.
First dish down, four more to go.
Out comes, a cold seafood platter,
the choice is theirs, cold red smoked salmon,
and caviar, prawns as big as small boats,
and crab, flesh sweet, oysters all floating
on a bed of crisp lettuce, and chopped shallots.
The champagne pops,
and bubbles, tickle my nose,
I just take a sip,
for now the main dish needs to greet,
the table, and I have to be able.
Now would you believe here,
be, a whole baked fish, and turkey stuffed,
the choice is yours, take what you wish,
They well look amazed, I will have them bluffed!
I will smile, "oh it was my gift."
Salad, roast vegetables, anyone?
Here we feast for hours, on Christmas Eve,
rejoicing, our Peace on Earth, no one would wish to leave.
and not the Christmas, tried to steal,
it all away, all dissolved into a fantasy,
Just dreaming see,
hear the birds sing in the tree,
The next course comes,
a cool refreshing mango sorbet,
to clean the mouth.
and now for the final dish, here it will be fresh fruit,
a platter of cheese, a choice of pudding,
traditional with brandy flame.
of course we wash it down with port.
This is to be my plan, I hope I can pull it off,
and push away that terrible disquiet in my heart,
that not to be Christmas, that displeases all.
that not to be Christmas plan
so many will spend alone,
so many with no family, no friend,
now I count the Blessings that I have,
and celebrate for them,
pushing that” not to be Christmas” from my heart.
