No candles burned in windows, no lights on a Christmas tree.
We were two happy children, my brother, Jay and me.
Father Christmas was coming tonight and we had not a thing.
But still we hung our stockings and Granny helped us sing.

We sang of the birth of Jesus and Jingle bells of course.
And we went on a sleigh ride pulled by our old horse.
The windows were frozen over with patterns from the frost.
For these simple things we enjoyed, there was no cost.

Ginger bread lay on our plate, milk in a glass from our cow.
Deep down inside we were happy without the things we have now.
Why we hung our stockings was the hope that late that night.
Father Christmas would have something, to make Christmas bright.

Sometimes Jay would find marbles and a corn shuck doll for me.
But not once as we grew up, did we have a lovely Christmas tree.
Hard ribbon candy and new shoes always magically appeared.
This kept us excited and hoping as each Christmas neared.

Granny told us stories about places we couldn't believe.
And as Christmas time came closer she would start to weave.
The things that came from her loom were meant to keep us warm.
Sometimes God would bless us with a lovely white snowstorm.

No store bought toys were ever in our stockings, only homemade love.
And many prayers went to God as we knelt and looked above.
Those were the memories, that came to my mind today.
And the way we got to watch, all the wildlife while at play.

I wouldn't trade the smell of apples, oh what sweet release
Because Christmas, when I was a child meant love and peace.

© Norma Marek ~ 19 November 2001

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