I have a lot of Christmas memories to share, so bear with me this month. The picture below is me on the left, dad next to me, mom next to him and my brothers Tom, Rob, sisters Grace and Mar, Joan was not yet born.
I wrote this story at Christmas in 1997. I read it for my Mother and my sisters at Christmas and asked them if they could figure out for whom I wrote about in the poem. My Mother knew right away. None of my siblings had any idea who it was, though it was their own father.
‘The King of Christmas’
When it comes to Christmas,
Christ the Lord is king.
But listen while I tell you of yet another king,
One who has perhaps a less familiar ring?
His kingdom was small, as earthly kingdoms go.
His kingdom lined up with others, in the kingdom row.
His subjects, they were poor, as poor as poor could be;
But he taxed them lightly and they lived a life quite free.
He was a very benevolent king, of this I am quite sure.
His motives I will tell you; they were always quite pure.
His kingly motivation, his awesome kingly pride,
To his subjects, his good will was closely tied.
Often in a snowstorm, his carriage could be found,
Fetching the perfect tree for his subjects to gather round.
Merchants near and far, welcomed the annual event.
For the king emptied their shelves to a great extent.
On Christmas mornings, the tree was often not seen.
For it was often hidden, behind presents red and green.
Children ran up and viewed them with delight.
Packages were stacked to a dizzying height.
The queen set out a festive table,
Enjoyed by any and all who were able.
No one left her palace, on any Christmas day, to travel over the land.
Without a generous gift, firmly held in hand.
After Christmas season, the queen would see the counting house, and let out quite a sigh.
The king’s debt load always ran quite high.
The queen ran the palace and she used every measure,
To ensure the gracious king his every Christmas pleasure.
But the king, he got old and eventually he died.
His subjects, each and every one, opened up and cried.
The queen lived on and she endures through this fable.
I’m happy to say this very year; she’ll grace my Christmas table.
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