A Poor Christmas- a father's lamentations

When I look at the scraggily tree I brought home,
I wonder, what will my daughter say?
This year we'll have no proper Christmas,
I can't afford a proper Christmas.

The presents beneath the tree number few,
The holiday cheer stops at our doorstep,
The cold winter wind whistles through the cracks in the walls,
I can't afford a proper Christmas.

As I think back to all of the Christmases I've had,
I wonder, will she ever know a proper Christmas?
Not while she's with me I answer myself,
I can't afford a proper Christmas.

Our holiday feast of bread and jam is meager to say the least,
I wonder, will my daughter ever know the joy of a proper Christmas banquet?
Not likely, I answer myself,
I can't afford a proper Christmas.

As we watch the shoppers strolling by, their arms laden with packages,
I wonder, will she ever receive more than just a gift of love?
I doubt it, I answer myself,
I can't afford a proper Christmas.

As carols are sung, and rich people drink and are merry in the warmth of their homes,
They forget, or maybe don't care, about those who are too hungry to sing,
Who have no drink and no reason to be merry,
Who are too cold and poor to enjoy the holiday season,
And they forget about those who can't afford a proper Christmas.

Someday, I will bring home a beautiful tree.
Someday, we will be warm,
Someday, my daughter will receive beautiful gifts,
Someday, we'll have a Christmas banquet, and drink and be merry,
Someday, I will afford a proper Christmas,
But for now, we just have Love.