The Christ Child

by Harshita Das aged 11

I roamed the world in rags
Knocking on people’s houses
Hoping they would offer me shelter
And food
A place to share their Christmas
I hoped the spirit
Would make them more generous
I entered mansions
And grand houses
Decorated beautifully
When I knocked
They simply frowned
And drove me out
They try to hide
By beautiful ornaments, trees, and rich gifts
I wandered far and wide
Looking for anyone to aid me
When finally I stumbled upon
A small and humble house
No expensive decorations
Just a plain simple tree
With a warm fire glowing
Blazing in the hearth
With warmth and friendliness
They invited me
Treated me as I were lord
I smiled
And gave them a marvellous sight,
No words convey its beauty
And unless you can picture the beauty of kindness
No poet can describe the sight
Which was denied to others
For an act kindness
Shines more than gold

The Poetry Zone

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