Poetry

You ask about this picture
that hangs here on my wall?
Many thoughts come to my mind.
I can't recall it all.

It's of our old log cabin
that stood along a stream -
nestled in a heavy woods
with weather most extreme.

The summer heat, unbearable,
preceded autumn hues -
and winter brought the heavy snow
which drooped the many yews.

Our hard work filled the wood box.
Much colder times, there'd be.
I'd follow dad's familiar tracks -
to seek a Christmas tree.

A chair set by the window,
sat I, upon the chair -
peering down our old dirt road
with grandpa not yet there.

The sunrise and the sunset
was all the clock we had -
so hours I would be on watch
with brother, mom and dad.

So patiently the snowfall
would cling to window sill.
Serene and quiet were those days -
snow blanketing each hill.

Then at last his carriage came,
bouncing up the drive.
Anticipation answered,
and Christmas came alive.

The planks beneath dad's footsteps
sounded from the floor.
He gave a pat as he walked by,
then answered our front door.

The gift that I received that day
came in a homemade box.
I opened it and once again -
long underwear and socks.

Toys were quite a rarity.
I thought it not unfair -
for on those chilly winter nights,
I didn't really care.

The fire dancing in the hearth
was better than fine art -
and love was not for brand new toys -
but rather from the heart.

The inconvenient hardships
were really not so bad.
Grandpa and my family,
were really all I had.

Sunday was our day of rest
that I enjoyed the most -
when father parked our wagon near
the church's hitching post.

Patience filled our earnest souls,
charity, the mind -
and my most precious presents now,
are memories, every kind.

We bore so many crosses
with work and suffering -
but they bound us together and,
I wouldn't change a thing.

If now an opportunity
brought back 'the good old days',
I'd trade todays conveniences
for more rewarding ways.

I don't regret my childhood.
I would not trade the years.
Now please, you must forgive me for
my sentimental tears...

Oh goodness, my - how time does fly!
It's almost half-past seven!
But stories more, you'll hear some day
when we meet up in Heaven.

So that's my picture on my wall,
reminding me of Christmas -
a world of true tranquility -
where I found love for Jesus.

©2011 louis gander ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
http://www.ganderpoems.org/