Bare branches through a steamed-up window pane.
A TV noise from under the floorboards.
The washing machine is now out of pain,
It’s scream subsided. (Has it been to Lourdes?)
Its vomited offerings adorn the room,
Carefully displayed on radiator,
While ironing pile higher than Pharaoh’s tomb
Waits for almost as many millennia.
Meanwhile, among the unread books, papers,
Forms uncompleted, pens, beermats, guitar,
The unwrapped presents whisper: ‘Forget us
If you dare, mister.’ Can’t avoid that chore.
The preparation’s almost done - hooray!
Now everyone have a great Christmas Day!
Sun 24 Dec 2006
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