Donna Sue Poetry

A BUSINESS WOMAN’S LOST CHRISTMAS

Posted on by Donna Sue

one year old Donna

She sighed and locked the office door and headed for the car.

Her face turned toward the sleet like mist when she saw the shooting star.

‘How strange’, she thought to see a star on such a stormy night,

It shone with such intensity, a magic kind of light.

If she were just a child again, she’d make a wish to believe

She’d feel the way she used to feel this night on Christmas Eve.

It wasn’t that she was unhappy, or wished her life would change,

But where was the joy she used to know when Christmas morning came?

She drove into the silent night, slow through the icy blast,

Her thoughts on many childhood dreams and ghosts of Christmas past.

It was then she saw the glowing church, and heard the church bells ring,

She slowed her car, and then she stopped before the manger scene.

She saw a tiny little girl, alone just standing there.

Who reminded her of someone in her coat and curly hair.

She stepped into the drifting snow; walked up behind the child.

Although she couldn’t see her face, she knew the girl had smiled.

The little girl stretched out her hands to the baby in the hay.

It happened then a miracle still talked about today.

The plastic Jesus lying there at once became alive

Reaching out his tiny fingers to the girl of almost five.

The woman knelt in disbelief as the little girl turned ’round,

And looking into her own eyes, it was herself which she had found.

Then suddenly it all came back, the joy which she had lost,

Because the baby laying there for her had paid the cost.

The little girl then smiled and waved; disappearing into the mist.

While the woman slowly bent her head to leave Jesus with a kiss.

Then off she drove into the night, a child again reborn,

Filled with the joy and happiness that come each Christmas morn.

Donna Sue Berry

Merry Christmas 2011


2 Responses to A BUSINESS WOMAN’S LOST CHRISTMAS

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

*

*