One Chistmas Eve,1938
The snow was gently falling,
the gusts of wind the only sound.
The branches of the trees were white,
Snow drifted on the ground.
The couple walking through the snow
wore layers of warm clothes.
Their cheeks, half frozen from the cold,
the only skin exposed.
How good it felt to step inside
And close the wind away.
Soon the kettle made a cheery sound-
Hot chocolate on its way..
In the corner stood a Christmas tree
The best they could afford
Dressed with tinsel and with ornaments
to celebrate the Lord.
Theirs was not the largest house
Nor the newest on the block
They tried hard to live sensible
by staying out of hock.
[...] Read more
poem by John F. McCullagh
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