November 30, 2015

The Red Christmas Cane/A poem

It's been so long since I've written a blog I'm not sure anyone will even come by. But if you do, know that I appreciate your reading. I was cleaning some files and found this Christmas poem I wrote years ago. So I'm recycling my work again. I love writing but have spent the last five months reading, reading, reading, hoping that by reading all sorts of different genres that my own writing will improve. I have to admit though when I get into a good/great story, I sink in and my writer self takes a leave of absence. I'm still working on the novel about Sweet Baby James, a baby abduction. Hoping I'm making the story stronger than any I've yet written.
So here's my poem. Enjoy! Have a lovely beginning to your Christmas season and God Bless!


THE RED CHRISTMAS CANE 

I was walking around on an old cane that year
Grumping and complaining that the holidays were here.

I looked out my window and as far as I could see
There were lights, stars, and angels adorning every tree.

And I might as well tell you, it bugged the heck out of me!

If I hadn’t fallen and an ankle broken
I’d be out at the mall buying holiday tokens.

A scarf for the mail man, a tie for my son,
A big can of tuna for my old cat Bun.

Instead, I was stuck in the house that year
And didn’t expect Christmas to make its way here.

I sat in my rocker and let the tears fly
Thinking that the season was passing me by.

THEN I saw Mr. Mackey in his big front window
Holding a sign that said, “Happy Holiday, Belinda.”

Mr. Mackey, you see, was a wheelchair bound man
But, still, there he was, a greeting in his hand.

A smile was on this kind man’s face 
Though he was confined in a heavy back brace.

Well, I looked up his number and I called Mr. Mackey
Hoping what I had to say wasn’t WAY too tacky.

“Mr. Mackey,” I said, “PLE---ASE share my Christmas cake.”
(Since he lived alone, I was sure he didn’t bake.)

“Why, Belinda, my dear, all this time I’ve been waiting
To make sure some other fellow you were not dating.

“Come for a party and bring what you might,
A holiday fire together we’ll light.”

So, I set out later on my red Christmas cane
For Charlie Mackey’s house just across the lane.

And by spring, Charlie’d asked me to be his bride -
When I said yes, we both sat down and cried.

Though my red Christmas cane has been put away
Charlie Mackie and I celebrate Christmas every day.


Copyright (c) 2002 by Barbara A. Whittington