Robert M. Simmons  

from Added Entries (Poems 1991- )   

            Truck Stop Christmas

It was December twenty-four,

    and snow began to fall.

Traffic along the interstate

    was moving at a crawl.

Mack trucks, Kenworths and Peterbilts

    rolled through the falling white,

their drivers hoping to be home

    before the coming night.

The forecasts were now calling it

    a major winter storm,

and folks were told to stay inside

    where they were safe and warm.

By dusk the highway had become

    a single icy lane.

The only persons driving yet

    were truckers or insane.

Most of the world was safe at home

    as daylight slipped away

busily preparing for

    the coming holiday.

Trees were festooned with colored lights

    in homes of every size.

From kitchens came the spicy scents

    of cookies, cakes and pies.

Heavy snow continued falling

    like glitter from the sky,

painting a pretty Christmas card

    for rigs still rolling by.

Forest and field were covered deep,

    and snow was coming still.

The wind that whipped across the land

    was cold enough to kill.

When darkness came that Christmas Eve,

    the storm had left a load,

and many a rig sat helpless

    along the frozen road.

Despite the snow, a lucky bunch

    had managed to arrive

at Harry's truck stop restaurant

    near exit number five.

The neon lights and knotty pine

    were welcome to behold

by truckers searching for some place

    protected from the cold.

And who inside did not recall

    that couple long ago

stranded beneath a star that shone

    upon events below.

Denise and Donna waitressed here,

    and Harry was the cook.

Country music from a juke box

    filled every notch and nook.

Kitty, Hank, Tanya and Willie

    sang for the crowded room.

Outside the rows of rigs were parked,

    mere shadows in the gloom.

Soon Harry was frying breakfast

    to feed a multitude.

Denise and Donna did their best

    to keep up with the food.

Hash browns and ham and steak and eggs,

    hot cakes in stacks of ten,

this hearty fare was fixed to please

    a horde of hungry men.

The truckers ate all this and more,

    then gathered in a ring

around a little Christmas tree

    where they began to sing.

"Jingle Bell Rock" and "Silent Night,"

    they sang the songs they knew.

Denise and Donna stopped their work

    to join the jolly crew.

When Harry heard their happy sound,

    he shouted this decree:

"Merry Christmas to everyone,

    and breakfast is on me!"

                            © 2003 by Robert M. Simmons

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Subjects: Christmas eve, Christmas poems, trucks, truck stops, eighteen wheelers, poetry, poems

Truck Stop Christmas