On Christmas Eve

On Christmas Eve

Leave him, leave him, let him go, who gives a blast ‘bout that store,

And the whimpering, whining, runny nose, and the boy’s who only want more.

Come with me, up Sunshine Mountain, and ride the Happy Day Express,

Who wants fancy pants, and lousy lucky charms, and a lifetime adjustable dress?

Not me, I want to ride on a Racing Star, that rises above the sky,

In hopes that sail beyond the Night, and the darkest dreary sigh.

Horses on fire, that fly passed the shadow of curses, when my only Grandpa died,

To a land that is fairer and brighter than smiles, when sunshiny eggs are fried.

Oh the food, and the old fat man who rocks ‘side the fire and smokes his pipe,

And tells crazy stories, you only believe, in blankets wrapped up at night.

It’s goodness, real goodness, in warm chocolate, fire reds, jade greens, and sunshiny whites,

Not chores without money, or songs that bring sadness, and homework given for spite.

And prayers, not so long, that you just get mad, no music that makes you weep,

And listening, just listening, for a song from the rooftop, that sings you softly to sleep.

It cannot be seen, it cannot be heard, with these hands it cannot be felt,

But, I heard the Star’s sing “Your Never Alone”, on a cold Christmas Eve, when I knelt.