Home For Christmas.. Poem by Matt Mooney

In a country kitchen on that Christmas Day,
Heavy condensation on the window pane,
Hearing the sudden click of the small gate,
Someone saw him come and said his name.

His mother overseeing steaming saucepans,
Up on the Stanley range-her engine room,
Looks out in hope and then she saw her son
Firmly striding in the sloping path to home.

Her heart filled with joy so warm and full;
She feels there is a wave in a warm ocean
Sweeping her on to let him in and greet him
And to happily embrace the unexpected one.

Smelling roasting goose he sips his soup,
Talking farming talk, united with his father;
Soon he melts into the man he was before
He took the boat to England with his brother.

He was glad he had made the journey west,
Like the Wise Men from the east had done;
Belonging here, he felt it even in his bones-
On Christmas Day it was great to be home.