An Old man's Christmas

By foot of the church he stares in a cold

December night. Huddled in the swarm of

peddlers by the tree filled with stars bright.

He eyes at blissful children caroling in joy

as they yell for Chocolate, for Cake and Toy.

As the old man looked at young people bliss,

(A doubly edged bliss, whose duller side was pain.)

And Lone he waited for someone greeting him

“Merry Christmas” but in vain.

His skin wrinkled and his shoulders bend. Like

a wilted Rose without a support can’t stand. He

ponders over the park being filled by young

men. How he wish he could don nine suits

and look young again.

Boys and girl jostled in a Halloween.

Some became an angel and Some looked like pumpkin.

He smiled faintly lost in his own time like this,

when his kin would greet a warm hug and

he would hail a Christmas kiss.

He stood with a stick stiff but fragile. Decked out

in White shirt, Black hat and White tie. The veiling

silence then rolled with Noel words,

as his aging legs sauntered into the church.

He prayed heartily with a heavy breath.

And pondered, “Was this my last Christmas before

my death?

He wished to live more and make more memories to cherish.

As the Vicar in the church chanted:

"For God so Loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son

For who so ever believe in him

Shall Not Perish."

And he believed in the word of GOD and prayed for his happiness.
Astonishingly there were scores of children then, 
who wished him"Merry Christmas", as he replied simply,
"GOD Bless"