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Christmas on the Christa: Part Two

In the eyes of: Radu

I woke up this morning
And stifled a yawn 
I looked ‘round the bunkroom
But Harlan was gone.

No wonder I slept well
I heard no one snore
Harlan left early
And rushed out the door.

A strange thing for Harlan
Since he values sleep
I wonder what secret
He’s trying to keep.  

I get up and listen
For any clear signs
Of a happy-go-lucky
Early-bird guy.

I hear a faint whistling
From Davenport’s room
It sounds much like Harlan
Is that where he looms?

How can he be happy
When he goes to class
He hardly knows answers
He cant even pass.

I quickly get ready
And rush off to meet
The  red-headed teacher
With quick-running feet.  

I rush in the door
And colors astound
The walls are bright green
And red spread around.

Is this some sick joke?
To make my head ache?
With nothing to do,
My seat, I go take.

I sit and I listen 
As class now embarks
Ms. D tells us stories
Of old times and harks.

She tells us of tree tinsel
And a thing called an “angel”
She describes all the festives
And talks about a manger.

If this is what it takes 
For me to get along,
Then give me a nice Christmas tree
And lyrics to a song.  

Although the culture’s odd
And filled with song and cheer,
They celebrate with family
Every single year.  

My family, the Christa
Along with time to spend. 
This holiday seems better
And will bring a happy end.


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