Christmas

The church bells ring,
Christmas decorations are in windows again
and in churches congregations sing
while summer rain

falls like confetti from the overcast sky
and in houses wrapped gifts are hidden
and in the street the last busses past by
and some old people are bedridden

but the true story of Jesus Christ brings smiles
even to them, to the poor beggar child
who with big eyes waits a while before walking miles,
to his parents shack and over a handout his joy is wild

and the God who was man watches with great care,
witness’s people sharing and the jubilance of man everywhere.

poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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