The four times

A maiden was she

She placed Him on my knee

He chuckled and cooed

And shed a tear or two,

His cheeks were like a rose,

He played with hands and toes,

He looked at me, then all around awhile.

Twisted and turned, and then a smile;

Then, suddenly had a nap

And nearly fell off my lap.

And then a Child was He

And brought for me to see

Bits of string, a nail or two

And after running to and fro

And round and round,

Came back to me to show

Another treasure that He had.

And dug with tiny fingers in the sand.

And tried to hold the sunbeams in His hand.

A jump, a hop a skip,

Then, all in a heap, He fell asleep!

And now, a stripling tall

Smiling, He greeted me

“These are my very own – these tools,

I made some of these things” He said,

“The little stools

And over there, against the wall,

That chair.

I hope to try and make a yoke – to sell

They say I’m doing rather well,

I’d like to be a carpenter, you see,

I really think it suits the likes of me!”

And then the man, full bearded,

With such grace – His level gaze –

His voice so low – the sweetness of His face-

He drew me to His knee.

“I have to die, you know”

( I began to cry) “You see

I’ve loved you so much here”

(And looking up) “I’ve got

To have you there”.

Kathy Breakell