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Christmas Day

It's eight o'clock

And Santa left the toys while George and Henry slept,

Although they swore they'd stay awake to see him.

Being boys who think that he is real,

But need more Proof

To bolster up the simple joys of ripping open presents.

And the poor?

Across a fragile world the day arrives,

The same as any other,

Without hope of food or sanitation,

Where the flies stand more chance of survival,

And the children grope through what has been discarded from our lives

To find the fragments that might mean you cope.

Thank you that George and Henry will not need

To sieve through rubbish so that they can feed;

But what of me, who sees the fractured earth

And yearns to give creation its true worth?

Brian Hick December 2012

©copyright Sally Hick 30.12.24