It is funny how memories <br />of old friends appear <br />at just around Christmas <br />every year. <br />Your mind drifts off to places <br />you used to know <br />and all the fun <br />you used to enjoy there. <br />Back to the school days <br />how joyous they were, <br />but ask anyone how they felt about them <br />and they’ll tell you they hated it there. <br />In truth, it was the best years of our lives. <br />A time before the world <br />and its pressures closed in, <br />a time of laughter, no tears there. <br />Lazy days of summers <br />that seemed to last all year, <br />and at Christmas <br />everyone’s favourite time of the year, <br />gifts spilled out from the bottom of the tree. <br />Those times are all now gone, <br />but we can still relive <br />the joys we used to know <br />through the eyes of our children <br />and their children <br />at this time of the year. <br /> <br />12 December 2007<br /><br />David Harris<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-time-of-the-year/
