A Christmas Poem
Created | Updated Apr 14, 2002
Christmas Afternoon
Spent paper strewn, a gaudy snake's skin shed
Beneath the branches of a plastic tree
This tatter was a bell; that scrap of red
A robin's breast ripped wide in infant glee.
Boxes agape like fledglings' open beaks,
Their erstwhile contents spewed across the floor;
The presents they kept clandestine for weeks
Soon lie forgotten in a dusty drawer.
The tablecloth, white as the winter snows
Bears scars of this and holidays gone by:
Here gravy, there red wine. That? No-one knows.
Between half-emptied plates, pulled crackers lie.
The adults doze, the children play next door
On Christmas afternoon, at half past four.
by Positive Feedback
