In Godric’s Hollow

The orphan at Christmas.

The orphan at Christmas, he stares at the stones
That mark where his parents lie

With all that he’s lost, and now almost alone
He still does not know why

But the friend of his boyhood, she stands at his side
Which freezing quickened breath

And they read, in the battle that they’ve still to fight

The last

To be conquered

Is death

3:22 AM

She can’t get to sleep.

It is 3:22 AM
And she can’t get to sleep:
So she goes to her kitchen
Where, all boxed up in a heap

The Christmas decorations are
That she has long accrued.
She hasn’t even opened them,
She’s not been in the mood.

Deciding, she then opens one
There’s a toy village there:
She puts together all its parts
With noticeable care.

Or, it would be noticed, if
She wasn’t there alone.
This village has been hers since, oh
Before her kids were grown

Or even out of high school;
But, that was some years ago.
She looks at all the tiny lights,
The people, and fake snow —

Remembering the magic of
A world transformed by light:
The music of a heart
That didn’t lie awake at night.

And when the morning came
The house was festive, stem to stern;
Her husband looked at her in wonder
Then with slight concern

“When did you… why do all this?
I would have helped you know.”
“I know,” she told him simply
And then took his hand to show

The people in the village there
Amidst the Christmas lights:
Who still believe and understand
It’s not
Like other


My parents both were singers.

My parents both were singers,
Taught us each to sing a part;
We would go out at Christmas and
Would carol folks by heart

I didn’t mind it very much
Out in the frost and rime:
I usually was rather shy
But not at Christmastime

When light and music filled the air –
The sound comes back to me –
There’s still no gift more special than
To sing
In harmony