Winning Poem

It has a happy meaning,
It has a happy name,
But for some in this world,
That is a downright lie

Think, when you and I gulp down our Christmas pudding,
The homeless gulp for a different reason altogether,
They gulp of fear, of dismay and dread,
Or if they will see daylight tomorrow

When all of us are tucked safely in our berth,
Waiting for Christmas Day to arrive,
The refugees are waiting,
For when their mind will be at peace

Think, when we give a treat to Santa,
On the night of Christmas Eve,
Somewhere in this world, people have nothing to give,
But lots to receive

When we enjoy our Christmas Day thoroughly,
Receiving presents, savouring the festive season,
They are facing another day of loneliness and fear,
Their Christmas is not our Christmas.