Poem of the Day

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The Christmas Garden


Right across from my house is a garden sublime,

where it looks like it’s Christmas there all of the time.

There are several old pine trees all bushy and green,

with the largest brown pine cones that you’ve ever seen.

There’s a seat on the lawn that just looks like a sleigh,

simply waiting for reindeer to pull it away.

There are statues of angels turned up to the sky,

sculptured wings all out ready to fly, oh so high.

And then peeking round flowers quite pleased with themselves

are some colourful gnomes that could pass for the elves.

Now this garden belongs to a fellow called Dawes,

who looks very much like, the real Santa Claus.

He is jolly and round, with a beard snowy white

and he works in his workshop late into the night.

Each December he puts on a Christmas display,

that brings people to visit from far and away.

On the pine trees are baubles and lights that all shine.

There is tinsel, and snowflakes and gold stars divine.

Harnessed up to the sleigh stands a proud reindeer team,

with big Rudolph out front – his red nose all a-gleam.

All the angels now stand singing carols and hymns,

while the elves wear red hats each with festive white trims.

Now lean over close and I’ll whisper to you

a secret that’s known but to only a few.

A tale so amazing you may not believe

that magic takes place there on each Christmas Eve.

When darkness has fallen and shadows are deep,

the elves and the reindeer awake from their sleep.

All the angels fly over the sleigh sprinkling gold

and transform the old seat to a sight to behold.

A sack is now filled to the brim with bright toys,

for kind little girls and good little boys.

Mister Dawes dressed in red, then strides out to his sleigh,

quickly takes up the reins and flies quietly away.

It is just as the sun starts to rise Christmas morn,

that the reindeer fly quietly back onto the lawn.

In the instant they land things are back how they were,

All except for old Dawes, who is still dressed in fur.

As he’s done every year for a very long while,

He now looks to my window and gives me a smile.

I then nod and I wave as I sit there relieved,

again pleased that in magic, I’ve always believed.

Caroline Tuohey
  • Submitted in response to poetry prompt #49


Caroline said: This poem was inspired by the garden of my mum’s friend Sue – she loves Christmas and each year, when I was a child, we’d visit her in the lead up to Christmas Day.  Her house and garden were always full of beautiful decorations and it seemed a totally magical place – as close to the real Santa’s house and garden as you could get.


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