Blue is the color of Marcy’s Christmas
Not excitement red or
Yellow sun on glistening snow.
For Marcy it was first her career,
She had talked with presidents and kings,
Flown in war planes, her game
Was correspondent news.
Oh, sure, she had been feted, courted,
But for her network influence,
Not her gray eyes or chestnut page-boyed hair.
The thrill of her job, her only true love.
Through floods, disasters and enemy strikes,
On foreign soil, a telephone family.


On this Christmas, though, Marcy feels pink odd,
The golden tinsel, green trees, and canary colored carols
Turned this hard gal’s thoughts to God.
Wonders! this strange feeling is bringing release.
Marcy’s blue is the color of peace.



By Norma (Twi1ite@sbcglobal.net)

 

 

 




Brought up from the Archives.


The Christmas Sleigh

Sunday at the Metroplex

Tears in December

A Ride Through the Snow (several writers)







Our Christmas Visitor

O Holy Night

The Kitchen Sink

On A Snowy Hillside

At Will

The Snow Poems





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