BREEZY HILL AT CHRISTMAS
The memory of Christmas, so long ago.
A little red house, set deep in the snow.
Two stately spruce, like cathedral spires.
'Twas a day of joy, of childish desires.
In the house, folks gather round another tree.
Mom and Pop look pleased, the kids shout with glee.
Then the kids grew up, and they moved away.
Other lives to live, they could not stay.
The house was sold, Mom and Pop left too.
Like the kids, other worlds to pursue.
Now the house has changed, as houses do.
Other folks live there, other dreams come true.
The two great pines, alone stand fast.
To share the moments, both present and past.
How I loved those trees, in the days of my youth.
Those silent sentinals, of God's great truth.
In this world below, all things must change.
Things once familiar, are now quite strange.
It's the world above, thats of real worth.
And those stalward tree, link heaven and earth.
The spirit of Christmas, lives in those spruce.
For the Christ himself, revealed this same truth.
Merry Christmas, Ray Thompson