here
where the sky is low
freezing fog with damp in the air
on the paths ice and snow
the smells of burning wood come over
small lights illuminate these darkest of days
in so many distant windows dispelling despair
the freezing fingers of salvation soldiers
melodise brass to soothing sounds
doing the waltzer from shop to boutique
in spin reminded of when young
the pleasure is combing for perfect gifts unique
maybe there shall be time for
this another year
this headache no tablet can kill
and stealing a cheeky coffee n’bun
relaxing in the spin
it's now
when most stressed
it's there
eyes to smile for others we meet
when home with tree delivered
lying on the floor snow dripping
the most important thing
maybe to hate putting the damn thing up
maybe anxiety for
such a beautiful thing
it'll be great
when posting Chris Rea's
“coming home for Christmas”
nostalgia complete
such a fab
shit time of year
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