My Father Doesn't Know Its Christmas Poem by Chris Meek

My father doesn't know it's Christmas, though he used to love it so.

He would decorate our hallway and our windows with false snow.

He would hang our Christmas trimmings for everyone to see,

And neighbours all would come around and have a cup of tea.

May father can't remember singing around the tree,

Or all the toys and presents and love he gave to me.

But when his Christmas cards arrive though he won't understand,

I'll read the verses to him while I sit and hold his hand.