A Single Christmas Tear

T’was not long ago,

yea only a year,

when Christmas was paused,

by one lowly tear.

Their gifts were expensive;

their meal, the best.

What more could they want for,

they laughed and they jest.

So why does this tear

so poignant and true ,

strike deep to the heart

and make all who see, blue?

It came from a man,

whose life had been blessed,

with wealth and prestige,

no other possessed.

His presence commanded

respect from afar,

t’is why such a tear

would seem so bazaar.

Surprised and concerned,

for this cannot be,

please tell us dear grandpa

what ail troubles thee.

His head bowing low,

his eyes to the ground,

a look of near shame

now accompanied his frown.

The room became silent,

awaiting his word,

wondering from whom,

a tear had been stirred.

He looked all around

his worry sincere.

Had I ruined Christmas

for loved ones so dear?

The smile he managed,

to bear up his frown,

did not fool his children,

nor kids all around.

He said, I am sorry,

don’t let your joy end,

just let me remain quiet,

my sorrow will mend.

But it was little Sally May

who caused him to speak,

who sat on his lap,

and gave a kiss to his cheek.

He said, very well,

I’ll tell if I might,

but, let it not ruin

this warm Christmas night.

I see grandkids of wealth

with nothing to want,

seeking toys and treasures

of which they might flaunt.

My children compete

with overpriced gifts,

they search several stores

but it was love that they missed.

I remember a time

while yet in my youth,

when toys were scarce,

sad, but the truth.

We had not a turkey,

a ham or a feast,

soup was our banquet

and noodles our beast.

But something was there,

a gift, since, not found,

the Christmas we cherished,

where true joy did abound.

It wasn’t the gifts,

yes there were still a few,

like dad’s custom scarf

from knit one and purl two.

Or the doll I made Krista

my sister the dear,

the one where the dress

never quite covered her rear.

And the gift I was given

and still have today,

the ball I would bounce

off the head of brother Ray.

I sit here with memories

of more pleasant times,

and wonder what made them

so sweet and sublime.

It wasn’t the money

we spent on each other.

It wasn’t the mittens,

given me from my brother.

But it was surely a gift,

and one I’d miss later,

and I assure you I’ve found

no gift that was greater.

It was time, it was love

and all that does matter,

we gave of ourselves,

and the talents we’d master.

We played simple games,

read poems and stories,

and then for dessert

we'd gorge cake and strawberries.

After those years

I’ve received gifts, not a few,

but those I remember

are one maybe two.

I now feel it’s me

that has taken from you,

a life of true joy

and that warm spirit too.

I wish I could give you

a Christmas that lasts,

one you’d remember

when you think of your past.

But now I have nothing

but money to give.

I once thought I lacked

when a rich life I lived.

Now silent, the family

pondered his words.

They too felt this lack

born of vast money curds.

“Is it true , are we poor?”

was the cry of a child.

Is something amiss,

maybe lost or defiled?

What can we do

to receive of this gift,

its name so allusive,

its meaning adrift?

How did we miss it,

what was our blunder?

What e’re could we do

to receive of this wonder?

Costly toys could not fill it,

no car could compare,

though millions of dollars,

we had nothing to share.

We called our advisors

they agree that it’s true ,

the money we spend

could not give us our due.

T'is nearly a year

since that ill fated day,

when amusements were halted

and children their play.

A grand new idea

was sparked by a child,

who said, “I can bake cookies

that will make grandpa smile.”

And then came another

from little sister Fay,

who said, “I’d bet he’d love it

if I did ballet.”

And Joey can walk

on his hands and you’ll see,

he can balance some dishes

while climbing a tree.

And mommy can sing

the most beautiful tunes,

and daddy makes shapes

from twisting balloons.

Of course Uncle Ernie

will play his bagpipes,

while aunt Marianne

dances jigs with her fife.

Some would do skits

and others play games,

Allen can rhyme

and do fun things with names.

A myriad of talents

we seem to possess,

from silly fun antics

to mastering chess.

And now comes a gift

giving grandpa his wish,

no money we’ll spend,

but the memories we’ll cherish.

We once worshiped things

only money could buy,

we now realize

how our thoughts went awry.

For Christmas is not

about money and things,

but sharing of love

and the talents we gained.

So now, during Christmas,

we try to instil,

the only gifts worth our giving,

ourselves, and our will.

And now, with our own,

grandpa’s wish we fulfil,

for he gave us the gift

that gave us a thrill.

Our joy is now full,

no thing to possess,

the gifts we receive

are truly the best.

For I’ll give of me,

and you give of you,

and together we build kinship,

our bonds we’ll renew.

We once were consumed

by the crowds and the hustle,

now we practice our talents

and avoid all the bustle.

What memories we’re given,

what moments we share,

since we turned Christmas into,

a truly merry affair.

There now is new meaning

kept all through the year,

and to think it all started

from a single Christmas tear.