Wednesday, December 21, 2016

A Hero's Heartbeat

A Hero's Heartbeat

He lay his head on a cold, snowy bench,
Under a lamppost in the city park.
His worn, unwashed clothes had a musky stench,
So folks left him alone there, in the dark.

The stone bench was hard, but the snow was soft,
And he hardly felt the cold anymore.
When his eyes closed, dreams carried him aloft,
Where his legs and back were no longer sore.

As over the frozen pond he drifted,
He turned to look back at his silent form,
Under a blanket, as soft snow sifted
So gently, slowly a peaceful snow storm.

He heard his heart beat, out over the lake,
Its uncertain rhythm marking his fight,
As winter attempted his life to take,
And he fought on, alone on Christmas night.

A flash of green light brought his spirit back,
To hover once more near his sleeping clay.
A green man pulled a guitar from his pack,
Sat by a green fire, and started to play.

He drifted close, to hear the Minstrel croon
Sweet songs, to sooth a long forgotten soul,
In silvery light from the winter moon,
And soon they achieved their intended goal.

The Minstrel suddenly stopped his sweet song,
And a deep silence enveloped the night.
He knew in an instant, something was wrong:
His heartbeat had given up its long fight.

The Minstrel stood, and saluting with grace,
Said, "Sergeant, it's time that I took you home.
Your dress uniform is back in its place,
And your spirit no longer has to roam."

He smiled because he would suffer no more.
And a soldier entered the golden door.
Mick McKellar
December 2016

It is a tragedy that any who fought for our freedoms, should suffer in the cold and die in despair.


Monday, December 19, 2016

Lights and Voices

Lights and Voices

I dream Christmas dreams with eyes open wide,
To savor the shimmering, colorful sights.
Our snow-covered home, glows so warm inside,
With happiness, love, and flickering lights.
Richer yet than twinkling light that abounds,
Than the rainbow-hued diamonds shining there,
Are the brilliant, happy, and joyful sounds.
That permeate crystalline, Christmas air.
Golden voices narrating ageless tales,
Silver voices raised in carols and song,
Telling stories where Christmas love prevails;
Where magic wins and we all get along.
Thankful I don't have to make such choices,
I can savor lights AND love the voices!
Mick McKellar
December 2016

Much of my Christmas dreaming is done with my eyes wide open, soaking in the sights and sounds, the the voices raised in song, the voices warmly offering friendly greetings, and the voices telling ageless tales of Christmas magic and love.