House decorated with pretty lights
Makes it special for Christmas nights
Maybe this year we’ll get some snow
A white Christmas in Texas? I don’t know…
Did you see your present under the tree?
You know it’s my favorite one to see
The one with the bow from me to you
You shouldn’t have, but you always do
Our first year without mom and dad
Of course it makes us all a little sad
Their memory is still here with us
They hate that we make such a fuss
It’s a time for memories – new and old
I remember the stories that we told
Back then Christmas seemed like a feast
But we didn’t have much, to say the least
We wore ugly sweaters before it was a fad
Didn’t know any better – it was all we had
We sang carols like drunken sailors
It helped us forget the year’s failures
A glass of milk and cookies on a plate?
Back home in Ireland, it won’t get ate
Santa likes mince pie and Guinness beer
And leave some carrots for the reindeer
Long live the old family traditions
We do it our way, our conditions
Make this Christmas one to remember
So the spirit lasts until next December.
I don’t know where this poem came from — we’ll call it 90% fiction. So, very little of it is true or actually happened to me. The only part that might be true is the Christmas tradition in Ireland. I read somewhere that they leave a mince pie and Guinness for Santa, along with carrots for the reindeer. True or not, I liked it. Maybe one of my Irish ancestors could verify.
A poem by Jason S. Sullivan, 12-18-20