An Ode To Christmas

A festive poem for the Friday before Christmas ๐Ÿ™‚ย 

Emily xxx


It was Christmas Eve,

And no one could bear to leave,

The sofa,

For fear they might miss,

Whatever festive bliss,

Was on the telly.


Filled to the brim,

They didn’t want to sing a hymn,

At Midnight Mass,

But off they went,

And it was time well spent,

Singing out of tune.


All tucked up in their beds,

Not a thought in their heads,

Father Christmas arrived,

He drank the sherry,

But intolerant to dairy,

He left all the mince pies.


Christmas morning,

Definitely wasnโ€™t boring,

With stockings galore,

Wrapping paper and ribbon,

And even a toy Gibbon,

For both of the dogs.


Preparations abound,

With a huge mound,

Of Brussels sprouts,

Potatoes and Turkey,

And something murky,

Inside the Brandy Butter.


Then to embark on the lunch,

To say nothing of the punch,

Happily stuffing faces,

Before all descend,

Into that familiar old friend,

The sofa.

Words Emily Bray

Illustration Sherin Aminossehe,ย Instagramย @archidoodlesย 

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