Poetry: An Irish Christmas

Oh, the glow of Christmas in Ireland’s heart,

Where magic and mam play the central part.

The kettle hums as the firelight glows,

And the scent of baked wonders tickles your nose.

Mams in the kitchen, her kingdom of cheer,

Crafting the feast for the best time of year.

Turkey and ham to fill every plate,

With stuffing and gravy—it’s worth the wait!

Roses and Celebrations passed hand to hand,

A pyramid of tins, a sweet-tooth’s demand.

The chocolates dwindle, but the laughter grows,

As stories are told while the mulled wine flows.

Santa steals the show in the morning delight,

With gifts unwrapped in the soft winter light.

Indulgence reigns in treats piled high,

From buttery mince pies to rich Christmas pie.

The local pub calls as the evening draws near,

With neighbours and friends toasting good cheer.

Singing in chorus, hearts full of song,

The melodies weaving where we all belong.

Movie nights in with a blanket and tea,

“The Snowman” and carols on the old TV.

Games at the table, the fire’s steady glow,

As outside, the frost decorates the window.

Growing up in Ireland, where Christmas is gold,

A warmth that no winter could ever make cold.

It’s mam’s gentle magic, the food, and the fun,

And love in our hearts when the season is done.