Magical Moments

Magical Moments

By George Amadi

Early in my youth, when chivalry

And truth, as a given,

A citizenry, full of hope,

Cherished,

Hearts, quite a few,

In December

Went gay because

There was magic in the air.

Then, the postman wore an air

Of importance

Unsurpassed which

Every letter,

A post-card stuck in it,

He delivered

Made special;

Not even iced-cream

That feeling bested.

My aunt, with a love-child stuck,

One guinea,

Through postal order,

And a tin of Gem biscuits’

Parcel in tow,

On Christmas Eve,

With a sigh of relief got.

But no sooner, up in arms,

Did her female friends,

Busy-bodies,

At best,

More, out of envy

Than sheer morality concerns,

The propriety

Of such a gift

From a married man

To a single-parent mother

Query no end.

Our fancy dresses taken care of

By poor but

Proud parents,

Whose children

And wards

At final exams

Excelled,

Brand new shoes for us,

At prohibitive costs

To their shallow

Pockets,

As well, to procure chose.

As midnight approached,

With bated breath, better to die

In one’s sleep

Than to get a foot pricked

This eleventh hour

By a rusty nail,

Was all every lucky child

At new shoes moping,

In disbelief, could hope for.

At dawn, as a Lagos church bell

Chimed, seen to,

Wearing a frown,

By a man named Sunday,

Who a cart-drawn

Hearse rental joint ran,

Side by side

With a grave-digging job

On a part-time basis,

In his kitty,

Magical moments,

Marked by folks all dressed up,

Pouring out into the streets

In their hundreds,

Singing Carols,

Now and then,

Stopping by

Here and there,

Wining and dining,

In fits and starts,

On Christmas Day ignited.

Lagos, December 11, 2013