It was Christmas Eve in the casa,

On that charming Spanish hill,

And high in the star-filled dome above,

Was mirrored an earth so still.

.

It slept through the noise and tinsel,

For it cared not when nor why,

That man will fight among themselves,

And never reason why.

.

The chapel bells were tolling,

They talked from vale to vale,

High up in my hillside casa,

I felt that God prevailed.

.

A melody of eventide,

Each tower sang its song,

In Andalucía hillsides,

I dreamed of where I belonged.

.

In vales below the twinkle lights,

A bed of stars it seemed,

I felt as one with God above,

I dreamed, I dreamed, I dreamed.

.

Let others do their worship,

At altars of their choice,

But let me be where I would be,

Where God is given voice.

.

Where chapel bells are singing,

Where hills are filled with hope,

From eventide, be by my side –

My small heart filled with hope.

.

Poetry of Mícheál Walsh

AWARD-WINNING WRITING FOR 500,000

https://michaelwalshwriter.com/