Poem - Christmas Chime

Yep, I’m up late again, and on Christmas eve, no less. The last couple of nights, I was up late because I was feeling kind of sad and depressed, but tonight I am up for a happier reason. I was laying in bed, listening to Grandpa’s wind-chime, (yes, it’s still very windy,) and a few verses of a poem started circling in my head. As the verses took shape, I knew I wouldn’t be able to sleep until I got them out of there. And this is what came out.

The old man in the poem, is of course, my Grandpa, an his son is Uncle Butch. I took a fair amount of creative license withboth of their wives, however, and neither of them resemble Grandma Howard or Aunt Ann in the least. Trust me on that.

If you are a lover of fine poetry, stop now, as what you find below is likely to turn your stomach. As I said before, I’m really not very good at this. It’s just something I do sometimes to cheer myself up a little. For the rest of you, enjoy!

Christmas Chime
By Steven Brandt
December 24, 2009

The old man looked with critical gaze,
Upon the creation he’d worked on for days.
A wind-chime, made with loving care
From bits of junk he found here and there.

He showed it to his wife with pride.
“It’s dirty,” she said, “don’t bring it inside!
Why would you make such an ugly bug?”
“God told me to.” He said with a shrug.

So in the back yard he hung it that day.
Beneath it’s clear notes, his grandson would play.
Year after year it chimed out its song,
Until the boy grew, and one day was gone.

The wind-chime played the part that was cast,
‘Til finally, the old man breathed his last.
His things were packed and carted away.
His son found the chime that sad, sad day.

He showed it to his wife with pride.
“It’s dirty,” she said, “don’t bring it inside!
Why would you keep such an ugly bug?”
“God told me to.” He said with a shrug.

The chime was put in a box, then and there.
And stored in the basement, stacked ‘neath the stair.
There it remained for uncountable days,
Never feeling the wind or singing its praise.

Retirement age soon brought the son down,
The big, old house too much for him now.
His things were packed and carted away.
He found the chime, where he’d stored it away.

“Well there you are, I'd nearly forgot,
But I know of someone who will love you a lot.”
His nephew lived not too far away,
So he gave him the chime on Christmas day.

The nephew, of course, was the very same one,
Who had played ‘neath the chime and heard its bright song,
And though he’d been blind now many a year,
The familiar old sound filled him with cheer.

“It’s beautiful,” he said, “please bring it inside.
I remember when Grandpa made this!” he cried.
As mem’ries returned from over the years,
His sightless eyes ran over with tears.

He showed it to his wife with pride,
They hung it from a branch outside.
“Who brought this gift? I’ll give him a hug.”
“it’s a gift from God.” He said with a shrug.

Copyright 2009 Steven Brandt