Poetry

She laughs and plays in the falling snow,

Feeling full from eating too much cookie dough.

She builds a snowman with an angel on each side,

To protect him if the sun should come to reside.

She sings carols in the evening with all her power,

Even at the houses of people who seem a little sour.

Her eyes fill with sparkle and delight,

As she looks upon the shimmering colours of the night.

Eager to go to bed and have good dreams,

She hopes that down the chimney presents will stream.

Waking from a thump on the roof,

She creeps downstairs imagining it was a hoof.

Anxious and hiding behind a chair,

She waits and quietly watches with great care.

The man in red walks around without a peep,

Then blows some sparkle dust to make her sleep.

She wakes in the morning and wonders if it was real,

On her face sparkles are all she can feel.

She knows what she saw and knows it to her core.

Santa is real, and she believes it for evermore.

In the still of the night the crickets are what I hear

They are a reminder of home and what I hold dear

As the sun begins to rise the birds sing a song

They each have a chorus and I want to hum along

Peace exists

The day is nigh and my shift is about to begin

I pick up my rifle much to my chagrin

The war has been long and has made me tired

My gun is loaded and ready, but yet to be fired

Peace still exists

My mate of two years is beside me in this trench

We wait and wait, and wonder if anything makes sense

The screaming crackle of lead is upon us now, and nothing is still

My friend lay blood-soaked and lifeless, and I fire at will

Peace ceases to exist

The long, loud hours pass, and soon the quiet comes

I reach in his pocket to see the picture of his sons

The children have hope and smiles so bright

…chirping crickets keep me company through the night

Peace will exist