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The Christmas tree is gaily decked
     With decorations bright.
The coloured lights are then turned on.
      It’s such a lovely sight.

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The angel at the top looks down -
     He does this year by year.
He gazes out across your room
     From his far up lofty sphere.

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Christmas cards bedeck the room;
      The Christmas crib comes out
But, this home seems so strangely quiet,
     With no one else about.

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No early morning cries are heard 
     As children laugh and shout,
And the reason for this silence is:
      No children are about.

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It’s almost time to go to church:
     'A happy Christmas, dear’ –
And you reply: ‘And to you, too,’ 
     But inside it is clear -  - - 

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With family gone you're now alone.
     You quietly close your door,
But remember that you’re not alone -
     You’re one of many more.

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Copyright on all my poems

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