Poems by Patricia Cisco

Since you're gone, Christmas time will never be the same.
When asked what I wish for, I can only speak your name.
The only gift I ever want at Christmas time for me
Is my precious, loving son beside my Christmas tree,
And as the world rejoices with songs of Christmas cheer,
I'll gently hold your memories close and wipe my Christmas tear.
So lucky are the angels to have you up above,
Right beside their Christmas tree; my son's their gift to love!

Your very first breath of life, I was there.
Tiny miracle of God, you appeared,
overflowing with joy, my eyes cried a tear,
outstretching my arms to hold you so near.

You're part of me now, my heart and my soul,
more precious than pearls, diamonds and gold,
sweet baby of mine to love and to hold,
through my many years till I grow very old.

Filled with amazement as I watched you grow,
my child, my son, to the young man I'd know,
never believing one day you would go
to Heaven before me, "Please! Dear God, no!"

More treasured to me than air that I breathe.
No, you were to stay and someday I'd leave.
I don't want to stay here without you to grieve.
No, you were to stay and someday I'd leave!

I've no understanding why or how this can be,
my sweet son's in Heaven so soon before me.
Overflowing with sorrow, my eyes cry a tear,
outstretching my arms, though I can't see you here.

I know in my heart all the love that we share,
on my very last breath of life you'll be there,
with outstretched arms, I know you'll appear,
just waiting in Heaven to hold me so near.

On one mystic, magic night,
Jack O Lanterns glowing bright,
kids with bags of candy sweet,
roam door to door and street to street,
all dressed up for trick or treat!

Wizards with wands, pirates with hooks,
monsters and clowns with spooky looks,

kings and queens with capes and crowns,
a princess in her royal gown,

witches with warts and fairies with wings
movies stars with sparkling rings,

vampires with fangs that bite,
ghost that boo all dressed in white.

Imaginations taken flight,
on that one mystic, magic night.

Oh, the fun of Halloween,
be young or old or in between!

So deceitful and full of desire,
Stealing souls, he's a wonderful liar.

He'll befriend and seduce you
With his powerful will.

Your weakness is his greatest thrill.
Control is the weapon he uses to kill.

He comes in disguises of all that you dream,
Fulfilling his quest and completing his scheme.

There are legions of those that seek to destroy
At every level of life they employ.

They come in all forms; their burdens are great,
For their master created them unto his hate.

He's lingered on earth for many ages,
Trapping souls in dark, fiery cages.

Soon his reign will come to an end
When the Alpha and Omega shall descend!

Many will say he doesn't exist.
He's alive and well and will persist.

His demons are here to help and assist,
But prayer is the weapon to help us resist!

Put on your armor from the Lord above:
Humility, faith, mercy, and love!

A final war shall soon begin.
This is when God's son steps in.

Many battles he's won in the past.
God will triumph in the last!

All the world will kneel and bend.
Alpha and Omega, the Beginning and the End!

Ever since I can remember,
on the fourth Thursday of November,

long before the crack of dawn,
early on that frosty morn,

flurries and leaves in wispy winds,
as our mother's long day begins.

Placing pumpkins beside the front door,
setting the table for twenty or more.

Into her cozy kitchen she goes,
creating tradition as only she knows.

A muffled clanging in our heads
as we still slumber in our beds.

Then, as if by some magical spell,
spicy, sweet scents begin to dispel.

Aromas in the atmosphere rise,
waking our senses and opening our eyes.

Cinnamon, saffron, nutmeg, and sage.
Stuffing the turkey, she's setting the stage.

On the stovetop simmering away,
delicious side dishes are at play.

Deep dish apple and pumpkin pie
rest on the windowsill nearby.

Family and friends begin to arrive.
Some a bit tired from the drive.

Children running in and out.
Happy laughter all about.

The smell of turkey sweeping the air.
Thanksgiving time is finally here!

Out of the oven all golden brown,
her turkey is our table's crown!

Dad, with his big wide grin,
slices the turkey nice and thin.

Smiling with her dimples so sweet,
she knows Thanksgiving is complete.

Now we give thanks to the Lord above
for this bountiful blessing made with love.

Many Novembers have come and gone.
We try to carry her memories on,

but the one thing we can never replace
is mom's sweet smiling dimpled face.

From year to year he drifts alone.
His story only few have known.

About a boy who went to war,
and there he stayed forevermore.

His leathered skin and graying hair,
his tattered clothes and gazing stare,

standing tall, yet head so low,
he carries scars we'll never know.

So know that our freedom isn't free.
It came from heroes such as he!