We had our own white Christmas
when the hazy fog descended on a dusty dawn
when the sky shone colorless before the sun could rise
and the tall trees shrouded themselves in pallid clouds
We had the air of Christmas
when the mist hid the houses from our view
when the cold dry air hugged our ashen faces
and paused, in transit to crack our rosy lips
We had our own nice Christmas
when greeting cards hung from curtain drapes
when hampers arrived laden with delicious delicacies
and pots cooked chicken instead of beef
We had our feel of Christmas
when the hawkers peddled bright stringy decorations
when the streets rang with yuletide music
and plastic trees shone with twinkling lights
So when children sing of snow and cold and frost
of silent nights and holy lights
Then I remember
that though we watched the King’s College Boys choir
and hurried to see Santa in his grotto,
we had our African Christmas
and what a Christmas it was.
[…] ← Our Own Christmas […]
This is absolutely brilliant! The alliterations were top notch and worthy of praise. You’ve defined Our Own Christmas in a way I won’t be able to do through poetry. Please, can I reblog this post of yours?
Hey there, thanks for the praise. I wrote it to remember my childhood. Its free to share, please do.
Lovely! I could almost taste the dusty hamarttan as I read this.
Great work.I know you have a God given gift.Kindly consult specialists on copyright issues cos you may need to put these compilation in a book someday.God bless.
Reblogged this on 85 Degrees and commented:
Funmilola’s poem really heralds our own Christmas. Gawd, I’ll miss my white clothes.
Thank you Uzoma.
Beautiful and well written. I felt as if I was there.
I absolutely love this!
I’d love to write something as good as this someday. . .I love this blog already.
Something new catches my eye each time I read this poems. Thank you for sharing.