Christmastime is here again,
but you would hardly guess
if you saw how bare my mall has been
and how barely it is dressed.
As this store’s resident Santa Claus
(his humble ambassador),
my reports to Father Christmas
have really rubbed me sore.
Where did all the spirit go?
Did it vanish into night?
Is it buried under leagues of snow
Or fled beyond our sight?
They set me behind a wall of glass
like a creature in the zoo
too dangerous to hear your wish
or slip down your chimney floo –
impersonal and customary,
more machine than man
as this holiday is regulated
and I lose my biggest fans.
Yes, the children stop believing –
not from fact or reason,
rather from the loss of hope
for a wondrous Yuletide season
filled with laughter, friends, and cheer
nursed by memories
spent in my mall, and halls throughout
where one spies a Christmas Tree.
When all you can expect from Christmas
are presents in the morn,
then what differs the Season of Light
from any day forlorn
when the highlight of your waking hours
is snagging something new
from online or down the street,
failing to fill for feelings true?
Closing time, dim the lights –
the magic now begins!
We’ll whisk away, far from here
escape feeble decorations
to home and hearth and much, much more –
where laughter and life resides
I place a gift for them to find
and watch how love unwinds
when children rise with eager eyes
full of hope and dreams
to not just get a toy or treat
that nearly burst them at the seams.
See, the true vision of every child
is the world Christmas conjures
with its fairy lights and jingle sprites
that spin a sphere so pure
And I see it! after the gifts
they gather round to feast
and tell the tales they’ve kept so long
for this moment to release.
With family and friends alike
the games and play commence
as the sun rises to melt the snow
then melts behind the fence,
the season’s capitulation
ends with songs beside the fire
to ring back out this Christmas Day
for the new year it inspires.
I return to darkened mall alone
yet see not despair upon my brow!
For I know, even in this year,
the present is only now.
The present that this season brings
is not found beneath a spruce,
but in the hope for what next year brings
and re-illuminated truths.
So, whether you hear me by
the last Christmas candlelight,
or the morn to follow, when its passing
conjures misery or spite.
How did the season pass so fast?
Can I hold on ‘til then
when all my childhood hopes and dreams
dwell and glow again?
As I pack up my photo booth
which hardly brightened a soul,
I tell you that to mourn its passing
was never a Yuletide goal.
Decking malls is good and fun,
and you know Christmas is in the heart,
but something new I impart to you:
Christmas is just a start.
The hope for Christmas keeps me alive
and all the world as well;
and if one falls or is cut short?
Well, it’s too early to tell!
The great thing about Christmas
lies in half its name –
if it seems to die one year,
you’ll never see it feign
for Christmas always arrives on time
to lift you from your pain
and remind you what you’ve wished for
since your younger years:
of dreams that float like snowflakes
and a Santa to wipe your tears.
I cannot be that Santa,
but I always will be here
through sleet or snow or thunderstorm
so you don’t have to fear
that this part of your memory –
whispering dreams into my ear –
is one lost hope you can’t count on
upon the coming year.
I leave for now, for colder poles
than the posts in the parking lot,
but I’ll be back again next Christmas, promise!
Riding right with the Christmas you sought.
Morning's Early Dark 