Charlie A Poem At Christmas.

“Charlie.”

Charlie wasn’t keen on Christmas, because of the paper, the lights and all the waste, He didn’t think it good to eat so much, when others went hungry, It soured the taste.

Charlie loved wearing Granddad’s flight jacket, the best ever Christmas gift, Grandma said he wore it each day, walking back from his overnight shift.

The coat was cumbersome and heavy, if zipped it came past his throat. His arms needed to be longer, and the leather smelt like a dirty old Goat.

But Charlie could fit mucky Ethel, underneath it when the rain soaked all her card. Or the snow made her fingers go blue … as she sat in that old butchers yard.

He could fit a curled up ham sandwich and an apple from Grandma’s dish, Deep inside the fur lined pocket. And he made a new Christmas wish.

He wished that all people had bedrooms, a place to rest their head. That mucky Ethel could have a bath and a coat to hold over her own head.

But Santa, he did not come calling, to the people who lived on the street. Instead he hoped they would have their own Charlie, who would give the shoes from his feet.

https://drive.google.com/file/d/0B7WJ-42kvYrWZVJhRWxLVDhxMUVQbjhJOF9obUU2clJxd3Jz/view?usp=drivesdk

I added a sound bite for anyone wanting to hear me read this. “Do you think a child has opinions on subjects such as this?” I would love a comment please 😁

This year my Christmas cards were bought to support Shelter, we sent them only, to close family and even closer friends. But I purchased one item a week and two when I could, th as extras to my weekly shopping all year. I googled a list of what I should get, to be sure I was providing what was most needed. I trawled charity shops for sturdy rucksacks once cleaned I stuffed them tight. A female sack was complete by August and delivered to the drop in center in our charming market town; you would not think there would be a homless problem here. Just before the cold of December a male back pack was ready to give, being near Christmas, I included a card, a tiny bear and a notebook and pen as extras. My gifts make me tear up as I write this, because who is to judge and it was so little for some but would mean everything to them. May this season and coming year bring roofs for the homless.

Our lonely planet Is left with the worlds Lonliest Whale, singing forlornly in the incorrect Hertz

Time never holds its breath When you can’t catch yours.

The sun does not forget to rise,

from behind closed doors.

Strength will appear from nowhere,

It slips beneath a storm filled cloud.

Allowing you to breathe in its beauty,

And hear nature sigh out aloud.

Our world continues turning,

Despite sadness in our eyes.

Or the sound of the earth failing,

The throbbing beat of babies cries.

Our Earth begins to rumble,

Beneath the seafloor.

For the Wildlife, there is no saving,

Sea creatures have long gone,

Except for the cries of number 52

As he sings his lonely song.

When our world is bare and barren,

Can no longer deliver what we need.

Too late they see the destruction,

As floods drown out the last seed.

To hear the facts of no.52 press here Every day I become more fearful for our world if only each of us took it upon ourselves to change one thing … we could prevent my words from coming true. ” What could or do you do to help?” Leave me your thoughts, I love to chat. 😇