I wish I were a poet,

With words like threaded gold,

To capture a night’s quiet magic,

In verses bold and old.

I’d borrow the serenity of this Christmas Eve,

In Longfellow’s chimes so clear,

Peace on earth, a whispered belief,

In every star, in every sphere.

With my family’s love, deep and vast,

As in Neruda’s tender sonnet’s embrace,

A bond that will forever last,

In every smile, in every grace.

Through life’s myriad, winding roads,

Echoing Frost, with choices sown,

My heart in contentment, happily bodes,

In every step, in every stone.

And for the future, bright and grand,

I’d wear Angelou’s courage like a crown,

Uplifted by a hopeful hand,

In every up, in every down.

Sigh. Be real.

In my noble poetic quest, so earnest and keen,

I chuckle at my own grandiose scene,

For life, in its infinite jest,

Reminds me to not be so pressed.

For in the dance of verse and rhyme,

I seem quite grave at place and time,

But with a light step and playful heart,

I remember life’s less science, more art.

Even if solemnity sneaks in by chance,

In the grand dance of circumstance,

It’s with a wink and cheerful air,

I’ll embrace the comedy, everywhere.

If I were a poet, that’s what I’d do,

Weaving words in a tapestry new,

But for now, in my simple, earnest way,

I’ll live the verses, day by day.

—-

The favorites I alluded to:

1. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow “Christmas Bells” - “Poems on Slavery” (1842)

2. Pablo Neruda “Sonnet XVII” - “Cien Sonetos de Amor” (“100 Love Sonnets”) (1959)

3. Robert Frost “The Road Not Taken” a “Mountain Interval” (1916)

4. Maya Angelou “Still I Rise” - “And Still I Rise” (1978)