My Daddy, the star maker

In the cold, dark, starry night

One brightly winks down at me,

I know he’s a star up there,

That’s my dear ol’ dad, you see.

He was the best star maker

While down here on earth,

Made one every year at Christmas

To herald the new King’s birth.

Hung up high on our rooftop

This bright white star was lit,

For folks all around it shone

Like a beacon in the seashore mist.

A week ‘fore Christmas they arrived,

Two long green bamboo poles,

One would become the star,

To hold it up, the other one’s role.

Dad sharpened, he measured, he cut,

And smoothened, laid out and bound,

His workplace a mess of sorts,

Tools and sticks all strewn around.

He worked magic on the green shoots

Bending them at points to converge,

Crisscrossed this way and that

Till a star from them would emerge. 

And when the framework was done

He held it for us to see,

Five pointed, it stood stout and tall,

Taller even, than my siblings or me.

Then the star was handed to us

With white tissue and homemade glue,

Four pairs of hands, Dad’s watchful eye,

Silver paper and squabbles few.

Oh, those were happy hours indeed!

When the lumpy glue got in our hair,

When sticky fingers marked the walls,

And Mom sighed in silent despair.

When we bickered ‘bout who did it best

As paper was torn and patched and glued,

And the smells of baking filled the air

While the carolers gently crooned.

Then it was ready, our patched paper star,

And we ran in calling out to Dad,

The smile on his face, the light in our eyes,

This was true Christmas, this what we had.

That night we dreamed of a white Christmas

While Dad took out his magic wand,

In the cold frosty morn, our beautiful star,

Lo, with no tears or patches we found!

It sparkled and shone in the morning light,

The silver trim softly glinting,

The white tissue stretched tautly

It’s tasseled points faintly rustling.

We scrambled up all four(s) to the rooftop,

Shimmying through branches, up handy trees,

Grazed knees, sore fingers unheeded,

Today our star would sway with the breeze.

Inside the star Dad fixed a light

Then hoisted it up the bamboo pole,

We hovered around as he pegged and tied

Eager to help, with our heart and soul.

Returning down to the lawn once again

We gazed up at our bright new star,

And silently prayed in our young hearts

It would guide the three wise men from afar.

On Christmas eve Dad threw the switch

And our star lit up white and bright,

Our faces glowed in it’s encircling halo

As we sang “Silent Night, Holy Night”.