Monday, January 7, 2013


by Jack Reeves (Dec. 1964)

I remember how Christmas used to be

    Full of mystery and wonder

    And the lighted tree.

With icicles, the star, angel hair and the fire

    I was enraptured in a world transcending desire.

I'd sit all alone---

   Just look and feel,

Never questioning the delight which no longer is real.

Now, if only I could go back again

    And become the person I might have been.

To again be embraced by hope and joy,

   To escape the imprisoned man

       And be the little boy.

But I look at my life as I watch the fire burn

    Knowing childhood days can never return.

Longingly I recall Christmas and the tree

   And long for the person I'd hope to be.

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