A Christmas Tradition
written by Mark Andrew Allen on December 16, 2008
(Dedicated to my Mom)
It is getting near Christmas, the air is getting cold.
People are out shopping, the little ones, and the old.
All are getting ready, for this special time of year,
When Santa prepares all the gifts, with his little elves and reindeer.
It is the same story, year after year.
What makes this Christmas, so special, so dear?
Well it's THIS Christmas, that is second to none.
Because this time, something VERY special gets done.
It's not like the last year, oh, there was plenty of fun!
The children all played in the yard, some went for a run.
There was grand ma and grand pa, telling stories to the kids,
And a great dinner was had, especially the pie.
The pie you say? What story is this?
I thought this was about Santa, and the toys and the gifts?
Well this story is special, you'll see for yourself,
It'll soon be a best seller, and on every bookshelf.
With all the hustle and bustle, as each year goes by,
We get sweaters, and robots, and bikes, and bow ties,
And skateboards, and dolls and color tvs,
And go back home, to listen to our new CDs.
It's all is so special, to get these things, they ARE fun.
They bring smiles to our faces, but soon we are done.
We must go do great things in this world, to make it better,
Like planting a tree, or shoveling snow, or writing a love letter.
We are each quite busy, every one of us, all,
So when it comes Christmas time, we dash off to the mall.
I'll take a dish towel for Aunt Mary, a CD by lil' Kim,
And a remote controlled beer cooler, for good ole Uncle Jim.
It's fun to pick out things, that we think they will like,
And even more fun to buy, ourselves, that brand new bike.
So each Christmas it comes, and we buy, lots of things,
And why not, we work hard, and look at the joy it all brings.
But I said it earlier, this Christmas is SO special, so dear,
Do you know what makes, it so different from last year?
There are no jobs for many, some have lost their homes,
The stock market is suffering, and I feel weak in my bones.
So this year we put are heads together, and this we DID decide,
That no more can we afford, take all of these presents in stride.
We need to save our money, for important things like school books,
Umbrellas, goulashes, and even learn to cook.
It makes us stop, and look far, far, back.
To see that Christmas tree, with the toy train, and the railroad track.
We always have had the most SPECIAL Christmas of ALL THAT I KNOW,
And I used to think it was the great gifts, because we NEVER got snow.
But it WASN'T the gifts, really, but some were quite cool,
It wasn't the turkey, or the dishes that sparkled like jewels.
My friends, they all have these, and sure it really is great,
But what makes our Christmas is pie.
I know, I mentioned it before. I'm sure you'll agree,
Pies are no big deal really, but it makes perfect since to me.
But this is not just any pie, why would I waste my time to write,
No this is a pie, that will take you to new heights.
It's made of cocoa, and sugar for sure,
on a pastry so flaky, it will heal and it will cure.
And a topping so fluffy, so golden and sweet,
What makes it so different, why is this such a treat?
A chocolate pie you ask? Sure, whatever, why not.
If it's pie that you like, well, it's pie that you got.
Just please tell me, because I'm really not sure,
What do Christmas and pie, really cure?
Well, what I'm trying to say, in the most clumsy way,
Is that no matter what goes on, year after year, on each Christmas Day.
We have my Mom's Christmas chocolate pie, made with love, from her heart,
It is so good, that it sets all the other presents, apart.
If it is rainy, or sunny, or happy or sad,
We have always enjoyed, the tradition her pie has had.
Now don't feel bad, that you can't have a slice of this pie,
You can you see, just listen to me.
This pie recipe wasn't passed down, from the great ancient past,
It was simply scribbled down one day, from a magazine, quite fast.
She made it her own tradition, it started with her,
Now today it's your turn to bring the frankincense and myrrh.
The great tradition of Christmas's from this day, forward on,
Will be up to you, and only you, to carry on, and on, and on.
It's what you will find, will be the best gift of all,
To start your own tradition, it's really a ball
It doesn't have to be a pie, or food to eat,
It could be putting up Christmas lights, or making the house neat.
Maybe helping Mom and Dad, to rake the yard,
Or singing a song, or writing a card.
There are so many traditions, that we need started today,
Ones that are created, in a special way.
Will it be you, that starts the next pie,
Writes the next poem, or dots the next eye?
It will be you, You will come up with it,
The best gift of all, you will be a big hit!
Then people will ask, how did YOU start a tradition like this?
How is it your Christmas's are always so happy, so full of bliss?
And then you can give them, a great big smile,
a tradition of yours, that has now taken you miles.
Then credit this poem and give 'em a big kiss,
a say to them all, Meeeeeerry Christmas!
written by Mark Andrew Allen on December 16, 2008
(Dedicated to my Mom)
It is getting near Christmas, the air is getting cold.
People are out shopping, the little ones, and the old.
All are getting ready, for this special time of year,
When Santa prepares all the gifts, with his little elves and reindeer.
It is the same story, year after year.
What makes this Christmas, so special, so dear?
Well it's THIS Christmas, that is second to none.
Because this time, something VERY special gets done.
It's not like the last year, oh, there was plenty of fun!
The children all played in the yard, some went for a run.
There was grand ma and grand pa, telling stories to the kids,
And a great dinner was had, especially the pie.
The pie you say? What story is this?
I thought this was about Santa, and the toys and the gifts?
Well this story is special, you'll see for yourself,
It'll soon be a best seller, and on every bookshelf.
With all the hustle and bustle, as each year goes by,
We get sweaters, and robots, and bikes, and bow ties,
And skateboards, and dolls and color tvs,
And go back home, to listen to our new CDs.
It's all is so special, to get these things, they ARE fun.
They bring smiles to our faces, but soon we are done.
We must go do great things in this world, to make it better,
Like planting a tree, or shoveling snow, or writing a love letter.
We are each quite busy, every one of us, all,
So when it comes Christmas time, we dash off to the mall.
I'll take a dish towel for Aunt Mary, a CD by lil' Kim,
And a remote controlled beer cooler, for good ole Uncle Jim.
It's fun to pick out things, that we think they will like,
And even more fun to buy, ourselves, that brand new bike.
So each Christmas it comes, and we buy, lots of things,
And why not, we work hard, and look at the joy it all brings.
But I said it earlier, this Christmas is SO special, so dear,
Do you know what makes, it so different from last year?
There are no jobs for many, some have lost their homes,
The stock market is suffering, and I feel weak in my bones.
So this year we put are heads together, and this we DID decide,
That no more can we afford, take all of these presents in stride.
We need to save our money, for important things like school books,
Umbrellas, goulashes, and even learn to cook.
It makes us stop, and look far, far, back.
To see that Christmas tree, with the toy train, and the railroad track.
We always have had the most SPECIAL Christmas of ALL THAT I KNOW,
And I used to think it was the great gifts, because we NEVER got snow.
But it WASN'T the gifts, really, but some were quite cool,
It wasn't the turkey, or the dishes that sparkled like jewels.
My friends, they all have these, and sure it really is great,
But what makes our Christmas is pie.
I know, I mentioned it before. I'm sure you'll agree,
Pies are no big deal really, but it makes perfect since to me.
But this is not just any pie, why would I waste my time to write,
No this is a pie, that will take you to new heights.
It's made of cocoa, and sugar for sure,
on a pastry so flaky, it will heal and it will cure.
And a topping so fluffy, so golden and sweet,
What makes it so different, why is this such a treat?
A chocolate pie you ask? Sure, whatever, why not.
If it's pie that you like, well, it's pie that you got.
Just please tell me, because I'm really not sure,
What do Christmas and pie, really cure?
Well, what I'm trying to say, in the most clumsy way,
Is that no matter what goes on, year after year, on each Christmas Day.
We have my Mom's Christmas chocolate pie, made with love, from her heart,
It is so good, that it sets all the other presents, apart.
If it is rainy, or sunny, or happy or sad,
We have always enjoyed, the tradition her pie has had.
Now don't feel bad, that you can't have a slice of this pie,
You can you see, just listen to me.
This pie recipe wasn't passed down, from the great ancient past,
It was simply scribbled down one day, from a magazine, quite fast.
She made it her own tradition, it started with her,
Now today it's your turn to bring the frankincense and myrrh.
The great tradition of Christmas's from this day, forward on,
Will be up to you, and only you, to carry on, and on, and on.
It's what you will find, will be the best gift of all,
To start your own tradition, it's really a ball
It doesn't have to be a pie, or food to eat,
It could be putting up Christmas lights, or making the house neat.
Maybe helping Mom and Dad, to rake the yard,
Or singing a song, or writing a card.
There are so many traditions, that we need started today,
Ones that are created, in a special way.
Will it be you, that starts the next pie,
Writes the next poem, or dots the next eye?
It will be you, You will come up with it,
The best gift of all, you will be a big hit!
Then people will ask, how did YOU start a tradition like this?
How is it your Christmas's are always so happy, so full of bliss?
And then you can give them, a great big smile,
a tradition of yours, that has now taken you miles.
Then credit this poem and give 'em a big kiss,
a say to them all, Meeeeeerry Christmas!
©2008 Mark Andrew Allen
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