Christmas Eve – By Christy Parker

Bated breath, eyes open wide, anticipation wells inside

On the night that culminates past the ‘father of all waits’

Visions of a laden sleigh crossing moonbeams on its way

Induce each hour to tease and test young brittle minds that cannot rest

And who, propelled on shoeless feet, hasten toothpaste across teeth

Lest that wise man knowing why, should see them sleepless and pass by

So scrambled sheets secure and tell the all-seeing eye that all is well

Where palms pressed hard by little fingers authenticate the wait that lingers

Like a song whose chorus when, it finishes starts up again

Is that a noise upon the roof? Could it be a reindeer’s hoof?…

If you’re awake he’ll turn and go, so shut those eyes that he won’t know

But angels gliding by your bed wrap you in sleep and dreams instead

Of morning time that will shed light on the magic of that night

In coloured packages of paper that cannot wait a second later

For young hands that tear in fear that they might somehow disappear

Before the joys so wound and bound inside the packages are found

Meeting friends from far away, home for Christmas, not to stay

Noisy bar in beer-gut scrudge, with precious little scope to budge

Brain engaged in one last push to somehow win that counter rush

Then laden with the liquid force, squeeze back to rejoin the discourse

Now sprouting through intoxication wings of wild imagination

And answering the clarion call of bonhomie and alcohol

Soars you past the stifling clouds of mediocrity and crowds

To the rightful place where you belong: upon the throne of chat and song

An erstwhile Queen amongst your peers in the War of Lending Ears

Your voice is resonant in glory through every charge of joke and story

But the battles not being lost, impose on you that loathsome cost

Of wilting balance, muscles weary, vessels swollen, red eyes bleary

Yet, one more round -make it a double- in this rosy Christmas bubble

Not quite ready to be burst while there remains this ego thirst

Until you cross the beer-strewn floor towards the night and your front door,

Remembering in lurching pause, tonight Mum, you are Santa Claus.

 

“Christmas Eve” taken from  ‘Don’t Step In The Poems’ by Christy Parker available at Alan Prim’s Bookshop, 6 South Main St, Youghal. Co. Cork. Phone: +353 (024)92781