Christmas poem with a message...great for children and/or reading aloud! |
The Christmas Angel Late one night in the toy store the old man trimmed his tree with all his love and all his skill with toys carved through his artistry. Little toy soldiers at attention stood guarding the Christmas Spirit. Golden bells chimed their song so true that you could feel it. Mr. Angelino was his name- pure white of hair and brow. A size-less man, with calloused hands who answered questions of why and how. In front of the crackling fireplace (that burned the whole year through) he'd carve and talk; inspire and dream, telling marvelous stories he'd swear were true! His fingers caressed a piece of wood as he sat in his hand-carved rocking chair waiting for an idea to come as to what it could be with a nick here or there. I used to love the toyshop- I always felt at home; secure. He always knew when life was wrong. . . and when it was, he'd find a cure. Until one day I didn't go in, instead I passed him by and although he'd come to the door and watch he never pressed for why. Summer heat baked leaves to brown, Autumn cooled, then snowflakes flew. I turned to my writing, to books, to dreams and never guessed the old man knew the problems that tormented me so, the teasing the teacher's pet had received and without my ever breathing a word Mr. Angelino's cure was thus conceived. I was the odd-girl-out in town for some reason different from the very start. I was teased about my name, how I dressed and my grades: I felt so strange and very apart. Just when every girl needs to feel pretty a head-on collision wept colors dim-- clear glass blocking out the light-- bandages and scars; without and within. Kids are cruel, they don't understand. Unable to cherish what it meant to see and so they laughed and teased and joked at the glasses I wore, and so at me. Every year at the toy store the old man trimmed his Christmas tree. Every year he carved a new angel to crown the top for all to see. He must have had fifty from previous years; each one a masterpiece. All of them different, all of them carved; each one a herald of Christmas Peace. He waited until Christmas Eve to light his tree that year and all the people crowded 'round his store singing songs of joy and cheer. While they waited together: I stood there alone on the side being pelted with snowballs. Torn: needing to be there, yet wanting to hide. Wondering why after all these months I was still being teased about my glasses thick. Then a deep expectancy stilled the crowd as Mr. Angelino lit the candle's wick. I heard the crowd murmur in delight, saw fingers pointed at the tree and simply couldn't understand when everyone turned to look at me. The crowd parted, leaving a path so I could go closer, so I could see. Feeling foolish, embarrassed, scared, I walked to the window and saw his tree. Suddenly I understood and lifted my head up high. Someone began singing "Silent Night" and outside the toy store joy was nigh! There on top of the Christmas Tree carved with a message for the masses was a beautiful, smiling angel wearing a thick pair of glasses! |