On Christmas Eve

when every shop is shut

every thing you ever dreamed of

bought, stacked, unpacked, wrapped

every thing you couldn’t buy a distant memory

everything you meant to buy a shrugged shoulder

every card sent, every penny spent

every child snuggled warm in sleeping bed

 

On Christmas Eve

when every last thing is said and done

there is a special kind of hush

for the plates stop spinning

and the world stops to catch its breath

for peace and good will can be heard

on a silent night

where everything a man could need

is Your gift

to us…