The Magic of Christmas

The Magic of Christmas

It seems the more years I obtain,
attested to by aches and pain,
the more I find that I can treasure
times, long past, that gave me pleasure.

There's something about Christmas trees.
The scent of pine brings memories
of family, children's delight,
and soft refrains of Silent Night.

There's magic in the memories
that hang from branches on our trees;
adornments shining in the light
glow with the tales that they recite.

A snowman from a paper plate,
made by my son when he was eight,
recalls the laughter in the air –
a gift that all of us could share.

A garland made of colored string
reminds me of the songs we'd sing
huddled by the fireplace;
A happy glow on each child's face.

A small glass sleigh with eight reindeer.
Oh how the kids would sneak and peer
into the room, their eyes alive,
to see if Santa would arrive.

As I place each upon the tree
their stories help to remind me
of magic that this season brings
in honor of the King of kings.

I well remember sitting there,
the kids and I in a big chair,
reading the story of the birth
of God's son, made flesh on earth.

The Christmas angel, placed on last,
overlooks these joys, now past
but not lost, for they're still here.
They decorate my tree each year.


An entry for the December Round of "SENIOR CENTER FORUM" 
Prompt: Must use the word "Christmas"
Line Count: 36

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