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“Ah, friends, dear friends, as years go by and heads get gray, how fast the guests do go! Touch hands, touch hands, with those that stay. Strong hands to weak, old hands to young, around the Christmas board, touch hands. The false forget, the foe forgive, for every guest will go and every fire burn low and cabin empty stand. Forget, forgive, for who may say that Christmas Day may ever come to host or guest again! Touch hands.”
― William Henry Harrison Murray, Holiday Tales: Christmas in the Adirondacks

“The Snowman by Stewart Stafford

My snowball heart is a sorbet,
With delusions of grandeur,
Use alcohol instead of snow,
And I'd make a fine iced liqueur.

My arrival and departure,
Are never certain things,
Wherever the North wind blows,
I descend on the iciest wings.

Here one day, gone the next,
My appearances are fleeting,
Then I'm disembodied by thaws,
Until our next frosty meeting.

© Stewart Stafford, 2021. All rights reserved.”
― Stewart Stafford

“Dying Hours by Stewart Stafford

All debts were settled on Christmas Eve,
Fail to do so, and there’d be no reprieve,
In the dying flame of a guttering candle,
Monies got paid, and cash got handled.

When the last customer left to journey home,
Quinn, the shop owner, found himself alone,
He stared at pooling shadows, no one there,
Told himself to hurry, be with those who care.

As he closed up, something screamed out,
A figure from out of the dark began to shout,
A man with no eyes begged alms for the dead,
Or any old soup with a thick slice of bread.

Quinn said he was a business, not a charity,
The man’s eyes opened with some clarity,
“Very well,� the man said, “Nothing’s free,�
“I’ll drag your soul to Hell, come with me!�

© Stewart Stafford, 2022. All rights reserved.”
― Stewart Stafford

“Season's Bleatings by Stewart Stafford

I'm looking forward to Christmas,
As Nostradamus dreaded prophecy,
In place of war, famine, apocalypse,
I see spending, coveting and family.

Wandering through warm déjà vu,
In new ways with usual-faced folk,
Fat in an absent winter wonderland,
Goodwill to all men as you go broke.

A fever dream or a deep turkey coma?
St. Nicholas dripping presents around?
An eviction notice to vacate sobriety,
Consumerism and consumption unbound.

© Stewart Stafford, 2023. All rights reserved.”
― Stewart Stafford

“Dashing through the snow,
with a one track mind you slay!
None can blind your goal,
or force you go astray!

Stronger than the sleet,
bolder than the hail,
on you ride the waves,
daring through dismay!

Jingle bells, jingle bells,
jingle all the way �
all is sweet around you dear,
your absence makes it lay.

O, jingle bells, jingle bells,
jingle rings joy true.
Earth has plenty ancient art,
but the bravest art is you.”
― Abhijit Naskar