Our house is once again decked out
In its holiday decor;
The Christmas tree is neatly trimmed,
The wreath hung on the door.

And nestled in my evening chair
On completion of this task,
I sense an air of Christmases
That weaves the present with the past.

As my eyes glance 'round the room
Capturing the festive sight,
They rest upon a little bell
That gives my heart delight.

Crafted by our grandson's hands
When he was only three;
He made it with his little hands
And love hung it on our tree.

There are also warm reminders
Of our sons when they were young;
Their own handcrafted ornaments
On our tree each year have hung.

Ornaments with family names,
And family pictures too,
Even some for past loved pets,
Just to name a few.

Our tree is like a map through time,
A chart from our childhood days,
With remembrances of loved ones
Whom God has called away.

And though some have lost their luster
As they dangle from their bough,
Their sparkle of fond memories
Make them treasures to us now.

But of all the ornaments we hang
Each year upon our tree,
The one we cherish most of all
Is the holy nativity.

For without that night in Bethlehem,
God's gift to you and me,
We would not have a Christmastime
And our tree of memories.

11/26/2007

Posted on 11/27/2007
Copyright © 2026 Rosie J Buhrmester