A Boy and a Candle

There I am--
A faded photo
On a home-made card,
A child of two or three
Blowing out a candle.
Over sixty Christmases
Have come and gone,
And in that chasm of time
The simple dreams and prayers
Of a little boy
In footed pajamas
Have changed, too.
Never could he have known
The life, the world
That was to come.
Yet somewhere deep
In this blessed and broken heart
That child still blows his candle,
This child still hopes for goodness, joy.
I am father, grandfather now,
Guarding hopes for other little ones,
Fearing for them in a world
Which will take their innocence away,
Leave them longing to be
So beautiful, so tender, so loved again.
But in this sacred journey
Where always we come as children
Back to the place where we began,
Where we travel on roads
That disappear beyond our candlelight,
We will be found by love.
We will be found by love.
We will be children of Christmas.