The steel riveted sky of our industrial town    

Hung beyond the chaotic bricks

Of the bangle warm shops,

 Glowing in their Christmas finery.

 

As I wandered past, bending into the sharp edged frost,

A stranger crossed my path.

 Tide-marked shoes, a desperate eye

Empty pockets, empty values, drugs?

I knew not- an open white palm,

“Have you a gift?” he whined.

 

I fingered the neatly written list folded in my pocket

Of Christmas gifts I so much wanted;

 A football shirt, computer games, books,

 Some favourite sweets.

 

I recalled the gifts I’d bought for family and friends,

 Some ready wrapped and labelled,

 Hidden under the bed at home,

 None had “Stranger “written upon them.

 

 I had no present within my hands,

 No money in my pocket

But I told him of a powerful gift that

Would never need repair:

 Indestructible, doesn’t need eating, washing or batteries,

 From out my lips the Christmas story fell.

 The tale of a child born into poverty,

 A homeless refugee

 

Filled with love, an example to us all-

 How would we cope if we had nothing at all?

 

When I had finished the stranger smiled,

Then faded into the grey,

But Christmas had become

A whole new life for me.