No one can ever tell your story, or share your feelings, or speak your soul, just like you can.
Which is why this Christmas poem I penned 7 years ago remains my favourite of all time. Nothing to do with ego, it’s simply a window into my world, of my Aussie Christmas, and the memories that I hold so dear.
And the memories we keep adding on.
So I will reshare for you, because it’s a Christmas countdown, so why not?
Something Christmas every day I say. 😁
What (Aussie) Christmas means to me, my love
Sunny days and leafy trees
sprawled out in the yard on lounge chairs
squeals of laughter from the park children
the squeak of Mum and Dad’s backyard swing.
Prawn platters, Fruit pavlova
three courses and constant food in between
Ham is not the star – everything is
and it all goes down well with a glass (or few) of champers.
Flowy dresses and bows in tresses
the kids run barefoot on the grass
we can show some leg and we don’t care
Summer, holidays, carefree, go together.
Annoying things too, like crawling ants and invading-space flies
tightly-wound presents with ribbon, all screwed up
but this is the miniscule list I hold
for this oh-so-Merry day.
Balmy nights, revved up cars
light until past 9pm
cannot sleep, but not just for Santa
for waiting ain’t easy when it’s pushing 20 at midnight.
Eating drinking memory making
What do you talk about with those you love?
Why everything! And now let’s make some plans
about how we’ll take on the world together.
Hot sand replaces stinging ice
sunnies sit meandering instead of wrapped-around scarves
we still rug up on Christmas Eve
to our loved ones for warmth, but not heat.
Carols may sing of snow,
Santa may be in his jolly suit,
cards will show reindeer, eggnog, fireplaces
and the pine trees are not native at this time of year.
But those are idealistic visions
of a Faraway Place
a dream where one day I will be, and see, and touch
and live in reality.
My memories here are of sun, of outdoor fun,
sitting outside and making memories with loved ones
My Aussie Christmas
is the one I love the most.
Copyright SmikG 2015