The Christmas Gift, poetry by James Walmsley at Spillwords.com

The Christmas Gift

The Christmas Gift

written by: James Walmsley

 

As I tread through snow so deep I wonder who I might meet.
Could it be a Wolf now that would make my heart beat.
Could it be a friend who I could give a helping hand.
Could it be a stranger who would join our merry band.
We could walk together and when we sit and rest we could talk about the things we like best.
I had a family once and I like to talk about them, my wife the good Lord took her and my daughter she has gone.
I pray the Good Lord will give hope to carry on for in truth I have none.
The friend would talk about his sad life and things he never had, that he knew a place where no one was ever sad and the could have everything they never had.
I must admit I was tempted but on my knees I would pray for the strength to search one more day.
The stranger would sit quietly then say with a gentle smile “We cannot choose who we are, we can choose what we are. There are two paths in life, the good and the bad, the choice is for you to make”. The friend will leave us for he is the Wolf, you have hope all you need is faith.
The stranger said he would walk with me for a while, he spoke little. After a few miles I turned to the friend, he was nowhere to be seen, the stranger said “He will tempt you no more, down this road he has never been”.
Look there is a cottage go and knock on the door ask for shelter.
In the cottage a young man sat at a table with a child. The room was warm, the floor was covered in presents and wrapping paper, in the corner stood a beautiful Christmas Tree, it was a happy place.
There was a knock, the young man opened the door, before him was a elderly man covered in snow. “Can we shelter in the warm for a while, it’s bitterly cold, we will soon be on our way.” The young man looked at him and said, “We?”
“Yes, me and my companion I met on the road.”
“Well” said the young man, “There is only you here and there is only one set of footprints in the snow and they are yours but come in anyway and get warm. This is our daughter Gracie.”
The man looked at her strangely. Then a voice that sounded like it had passed through the lips of an Angel said, “Please stay and celebrate Christmas Day.” The elderly man turned, and framed in the doorway was the image of his wife Grace.
He fell to his knees, before him he knew was his long lost daughter and finally he understood.

James Walmsley

James Walmsley

I am a retired Engineer, I now spend my time writing and playing guitar.
James Walmsley

Latest posts by James Walmsley (see all)