Entertainment

A Christmas Poem by Bob Scott


The Man Who Sat On Yonder Hill

old-man-with-stick

Nearly at journey’s end
Uphill and down dale he had travelled
Now was he to stop
As he wished to rest his weary head

Hands stiff with cold
As to mouth he did raise
A gasp of hot breath, he did blow
Rubbing hands to circulate its flow

He raises his head to admire
Yonder village all aglow
Twinkling lights of colours many
Dancing around the chimney smoke

As in time past, this village that had not broken its mould
Few and far between! He sighed
As he remembered when
A common sight for friends and foe

A place to sup ale
And a hearty meal at Christmas, put before you
I wonder has this Village Pub changed
Guess I will never know, if I make not my journey’s end

       Up he stands, stick in hand
Along the edge of the woodland
He doth travel
Edging ever near his resting place of hope

        Lights become brighter
Almost like coloured balloons
White trails from the smoke twirl around the clouds
“O” what a sight, his heart beats with delight

Truly this is going to be a Christmas?  Made from memories
As those he remembered so-so long ago
Shuffling along the village boundary he makes his way
Music to his ear! As carol singers in the village square

Sing-eth “O” come all ye faithful
My call for an entrance, to the village pub I make
A jovial character behind the bar
“Olla’s friend welcome! Make yourself at home

Then the questions begin to flow
Firstly with that long awaited pint
I sup with glee as full body, it agrees with me
Now Landlord I do ask

Do you have a room for the night or maybe three?
Certainly Sire, my heart jumped with glee
Landlord said follow me, as candle dish he did grab
It flickered brightly, but not that of smoke

A battery operated light, to add to the reality
Landlord opened a door for me
Then said, it’s quiet to the rear, so rest you will get a plenty
When you’re ready, come and join the fun

As I drift away in slumber, it was an hour or so. Before I arose
My dreams had taken me back to my childhood
I feel like I am back home
So downstairs once again, good conversations I had a many

As they spoke a few from the past
I had once shared those memories
Unbeknown to most, I had returned to my childhood home
This is how all Christmases should be, full of Memories.

Copyright Bob Scott. © December 18th  2016.

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