A Christmas Poem

Christmas in a Recession
His credit card can take no more abuse,
He’s deep in debt from its overuse.
The bill collectors are breathing down his neck,
All he’s praying for is a miracle check.

He does what he has to do to survive.
Some mornings he’s surprised to find he’s alive.
He walks to the store to save the gas,
The cars spray winter sludge as they whiz past.

As he walks through the door
There’s sadness on his face.
He didn’t use to be poor,
He used to enjoy the ornaments all over the place.

He strides towards the bikes
And finds the one his son likes.
For his daughters he gets coats,
He knows what they want because they both left him notes.

He gets his wife a watch to wear at her cuff,
Wishing he could get her more.
He knows nothing would ever be enough,
Not even the whole store.

He pulls out his calculator
As he rides down the escalator.
He hopes the numbers are merciful to him
He wishes he had the jolly spirit of Tiny Tim.

He carefully counts out each precious cent
As the cashier casually grabs all the money he spent.
He drops his last two dollars into the fundraising jar
Instead of using the money to stop by the bar.

Christmas morning arrives too fast,
The man knows it won’t be like years past.
There aren’t as many presents under the tree,
Yet the kids are still just as full of holiday glee.

He knows the value of Christmas day
Doesn’t depend on the value of a buck.
It’s about the baby who brought the light ray,
Not about good fortune or luck.

The day is still sacred
Whether well-clothed or naked.
It’s about one man’s holy sacrifice,
Not about the tv ad’s lies.

The man looks at his wife and sees love in her eye,
That look alone almost makes him cry.
He doesn’t need a lot of money or stuff,
He has joy and that’s more than enough.

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