Reviews sometimes depend on themes,
on rhyme or form and other schemes;
I've found that some will love that rhyme,
while others say, "it's yawning time."

But I don't write to please the mind,
I hope it does, so please be kind,
I write because I know I must,
or else my thoughts just gather dust.

I like to scribe from soul's deep rough,
and don't like cures off cynic's cuff,
I'd rather proffer words of hope,
than spin bad words, a verbal grope.

If froth and bubble is one's style,
it might stir sceptics' ire and bile,
life can be hard, so tough or curt,
yet words can heal or wound and hurt.

But Christmas time was rough on God,
He sent His Son to walk this sod,
Christ gave up all, poured through death's sieve,
God spared Him not so we could live.

So when you pause in Christmas thought,
remember what our God has wrought,
consider who Christ's death has bought,
He came to save, those lost He sought.