Lights shimmer, along
old cobbled streets,
cold noses, bit with frost,
poke out from bobbled hats
like wild red berries on a holly branch.
Gloved lovers, holding woollen hands,
recite Christmas hits,
like they’re stuck on repeat,
from shop to shop,
buying gifts
to stack, like iridescent bricks,
beneath the festive tree.
For Christmas Day, will soon be here
when bickering and woe
is swapped – sporadically -
for mistletoe kisses and all the trimmings,
while glass hearts filled
with mulled wine cheer,
toast fresh dreams of new year
free of the last.
old cobbled streets,
cold noses, bit with frost,
poke out from bobbled hats
like wild red berries on a holly branch.
Gloved lovers, holding woollen hands,
recite Christmas hits,
like they’re stuck on repeat,
from shop to shop,
buying gifts
to stack, like iridescent bricks,
beneath the festive tree.
For Christmas Day, will soon be here
when bickering and woe
is swapped – sporadically -
for mistletoe kisses and all the trimmings,
while glass hearts filled
with mulled wine cheer,
toast fresh dreams of new year
free of the last.
Oh that piling of gifts - the traditions. and still hope of renewal.. ha wonderful flow in your words.
ReplyDeleteit is a time a cheer, and transition, many times in hopes of something better. well done
ReplyDeletethis is the magic of christmas isnt it...that we can lay aside everything else and just be in that moment...to share the kisses and all that some with it...why we have to wear ourselves out getting there, i will never know...
ReplyDeleteVery well done. I love the imagery in this piece. :-)
ReplyDeleteWish every year we could just do this......... and start a new life.......
ReplyDeleteThis is sweet!
ReplyDeleteLovely Paul.
ReplyDeleteYou've seen my nose in winter then? :o]
Anna