The Star

She didn’t have a speaking part
Because the words were tricky.
(Though was glad she wasn’t Mary
Because Joseph’s hands were sticky.)

 

She’d hoped to be an angel
Because angels point their toes. 
But they’d offered her a shepherd
And she didn’t like the clothes. 

Now all the parts were given out 
And she was just ‘the crowd.’
As she faced the sea of mums and dads,
Her little head was bowed.

Until she saw, right up the back,
Her mummy’s loving glance.
That found her and stayed fixed on her
Through every song and dance.

 
Whilst one king whacked the others,

With his golden box of myrrh.
Her mummy never peeped at them;
Those eyes stayed fixed on her.

 
And even though poor Jesus fell,
When the manger somehow tipped.

And Gabriel danced a solo
That wasn’t in the script.

 
Her mummy just looked straight at her

Like no one else was there.
It made her feel so wonderful
And she no longer cared.

 
That she didn’t have a ‘proper’ part

Which everybody ‘ahhed.’
Because, looking through her mummy’s eyes,
She would always be the star.

 Emma Robinson 2015

 

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s