Home After Midnight

Gayle rose from her bed after midnight,

Her steps they were weary and slow.

Her heart aching sorely from burdens,

More than any mother should know.

No Christmas tree stood in the corner,

Draped gently with garland that’s bright.

No stockings were hung by the chimney.

Or candles glowed brightly that night.

And morning would come without changes,

No steps on the fresh-fallen snow.

No child would come home after midnight,

And worry his poor mother so.

No defiance in his dark eyes shining,

No grin for he knew she’d forgive,

No slop on the carpet to wipe up.

Just how was a mother to live?

A child shouldn’t die before Christmas.

No mother should bear with this pain.

And as she seated herself in the parlor,

All attempts to be happy were vain.

A soft noise at the door drew her upward.

She turned on the porch light to see,

A young woman in sweat shirt and blue jeans,

A scarf and a tattered white T.

Keri was just a poor girl from the ghetto,

With nothing on earth to bestow,

But she thought on that eve after midnight,

The Lord wanted her just to go,

To offer her presence in comfort,

And a hug, that was proof of her care,

To a soul that she knew that was hurting.

For that love was all she could share.

Gale smiled as she looked at the sidewalk,

And the prints on the fresh fallen snow.

A child had come home after midnight,

With a hug and a cheery hello.

Many gifts will change hands during Christmas,

Wrapped in tissue and ribbons so bright,

But none so important and lasting,

As the love that we give on that night.

© S. Craig

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11 Comments

Filed under Inspirational, Sue's Corner

11 responses to “Home After Midnight

  1. Important thoughts for this time of year.

  2. This brought tears to my eyes.

  3. You speak to the beauty of the season.

  4. Libertarian

    Beautiful poem!!

  5. Very touching poem 🙂
    I especially like how you don’t say what has happened before about halfway into the poem 🙂

  6. P. Booher

    Your poem shows that what people long for the most is love, not things.

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