Home About Hartline   Our Agents   Our Authors   Submissions   Blog   Contact Us

Thursday, December 22, 2011

Christmas Past by Terry Burns



Christmas used to mean a pilgrimage to Grandma's house.




Those days are still very special to me and were the subject of this little poem that I penned several years ago when thinking of those special times:





Christmas at my Grandma’s house was there ever such a time?
And I a button scarcely large enough that I could climb
Upon the wing of Grandpa’s rocker, feet upon the rail
And watch him smoke his pipe & smile as I told him many a tale.

Christmas at my Grandma’s house and the tree would reach the ceiling.
The smell of cooking filled the air & the world was bright with feeling.
From the height we looked the presents stacked more than halfway up the tree.
And came back down near half the wall, and many of them for me!

Christmas at my Grandma’s house, and music filled the air.
Uncle Ray’s piano shook the room as he played without a care.
Uncle Bills fiddle took it high, Daddy’s guitar filled it in;
We kids supplied the chorus, though maybe a little thin.

Christmas at my Grandma’s house, but we always had to wait
For Uncle Edgar to get back home from the shopping trip he’d take.
We kids would gather round his door and try to peek inside
As he wrapped those final presents while the smallest of us cried.

Christmas at my Grandma’s house, and how excitement grew!
For though the gifts cost not too great neither were they too few.
As parents, aunts, uncles & cousins all bought something small
For each kid, and our eyes bugged out as our stack grew oh so tall!

Christmas at my Grandma’s house, and little did I know
That I was filling my heart so full of love that through the years would go.
I still recall and see it clear, the faces plain as day
And though I live a hundred years, I’ll always feel this way.

For Christmas at my Grandma’s house is a fairy tale in time!
When love and laughter filled the air and everyone felt just fine.
It cannot be repeated, nor would I if I might;
For our own have been as special, but still there was that night....

When Christmas at my Grandma’s house made all the world seem right.
But now I would remember, and have YOU see that sight.
And as you celebrate this year comes this vision from the past
And I hope this time is just as good and hope these joys do last.

Yet above all of the wonderful times with family and friends we must be ever mindful that the reason for the season is the celebration of the birth of our Lord and Savior.
Merry Christmas to you one and all . . . . .

5 comments:

Timothy Fish said...

Yeah, here's hoping that all the people complaining about store clerks not saying "Merry Christmas" will remember that Christmas falls on a Sunday this year and will go to church.

Cheryl Linn Martin said...

Thanks for the wonderful memories, Terry! My kids miss going to Grandma and Grandpa's house, but soon (I hope!) they'll be bringing their kids to Grandma's house (that would be me!!) Can't wait. Merry Christmas, Terry, to you and your family!

Diana said...

Your post provoked such wonderful memories of my own. I could smell my grandmothers pies when reading of your good times. :-)

Merry Christmas Terry and thank you for sharing your poem with us.

Terry Burns said...

Actually, this is a good Christmas memory, but not my best one. My best Christmas, no contest, was the year that I watched both of my kids get baptized in a candlelight Christmas Eve service. It was beautiful, and something I could never forget if I tried, and of course I don't want to.

Bonnie S. Calhoun said...

Merry CHRISTmas to all!