Thursday, December 27, 2012

Christmas Prince




By Sharon Rose
I remember the day you were born.
It was early and a cold frosty morn.
Rosy cheeks, pink toes, and a little bald head;
Cooing sweetly as you first lay in your bed.

Soon you were walking and going to school;
Building and hammering with Daddy's tools.
Making friends and driving a car.
We knew all along you would go far.

Years have passed and you have grown tall.
You are no longer helpless and small.
Passing through the corridor of time,
You have become a man, sweet child of mine.

On this special day our home still comes alive,
With the season of joy, merriment, and pride.
The Christmas tree lights, the gifts as they lay,
For our Christmas Prince born on Christmas day. 


This Christmas poem is meant to create a view of a child's life and emphasize how quickly childhood passes.  There are many little princes and princesses, whether born on Christmas day or not, that have been given into our care.  The growing up time goes by so fast, we wonder, where did the time go?  Cherish each day to love and teach our children.  The time will come when we must allow them to go out into the world on their own.  Let's do our best to help them to be prepared for that day.  Your heart need not be heavy, for remember, with love, they will come back to you; often on Christmas day.

MERRY CHRISTMAS, HAPPY HOLIDAYS TO ALL!!!



Copyright, Christmas Prince, poem, October, 2011; Author, Sharon Rose. All rights reserved, December, 2011.  Cannot be published without permission of the author, under penalty of law.  Cannot be used in theatrical or any spoken word stage production without permission and credit to the author, under penalty of law.  Contact: srgjones@gmail.com.

CopyrightChristmas Prince, article, Sharon Rose, Parents Want to Know 101, December 10, 2011, all rights reserved.
  
Credit: Model, Aidan, photographer, Sharon Rose, December, 2008, all rights reserved. Cannot be used without permission of photographer, under penalty of law. Contact: srgjones@gmail.com.  

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