Christmas Eve, 2014
Wind blows down the chimney
to remind me it is there.
No fire lit in the grate,
up there is only air.
No smoke floats up the chimney,
now gas fires warm the rooms.
Shovelling coal time gone,
like leaves swept away by brooms.
No coal stoked in the fire place,
for flames to die to embers.
I do not hear coal crack and spark,
but still heed what my mind remembers.
Christmas Eve could make you cry.
Its magic will never fail.
Yes, once I listened for sleigh bells in the sky,
I built a boat for starry seas to sail.
Wind blows down the chimney,
tells me there is something there.
Star above the stable roof
guides me up the hidden stair.