Merry Christmas

And now it is the dying of the year,

And the light is brief, and barely begun

Before it has gone.

The streets are shining dull and silver

Grey, old snow and rain mingle

Into one icy sheen.

The lights are on the fake trees,

And the tinsel and baubles,

In shop windows.

The adverts play each night

Telling us that we need to buy more

And more for happiness.

There is so much to do before the big day

Before that pinnacle of cheer 

And celebration.

Celebration? For everyone, everywhere?

I think not, not for me, or for you,

Or for them.

The streets are still cold, the cardboard

Is not warming to lost souls,

The rain still falls.

The ones with no home are not happy,

The ones with no family do not celebrate,

They cry alone.

Christmas is one myth, one elusive fairy tale

That each year more and more people

Fail to reach.

Money cannot buy the perfect Christmas.

Because.

There is no perfect Christmas.

There is still hunger, sadness, loneliness,

Cold, damp and pain.

Like two thousand years ago.

(c) 2ndwitch 17/12/10