Two days left until the day
A day where all the children say Yay!
A day that brings joy to the world
Joy, joy goes beyond the Earth
If you’re waiting for the name of the day the wait
It’s lovely and maybe does bring some extra weight
The name is CHRISTMAS!
Christmas
Christmas
Christmas.
Only
Two Days Left!
The tree is up,
The countdown finished,
No worries at all.
The stockings hung,
The mince pie and milk for Santa
A carrot for his tireless steed.
Is it real?
Can it really be?
Will I wake up tomorrow with a present under the tree?
The tree is up,
The countdown finished,
No worries, no worries.
Up, up in space I lay,
No one knows me yet,
They don’t know what I say,
They don’t know my secrets yet.
They say aliens live here,
But they really don’t know,
I bet they don’t come because of a fear,
But I really don’t know.
There are lots of secrets in me,
So do come and visit,
Not with fear but with glee,
Come and visit…..
Area 51
Warmmmmth, Jooooy, Holly, Molly
That’s what christmas is…..oooooo
Yh Christmas, yh Christmaaaas.
you jump up… you jump down.
Celebrate with your fam
The ones that make you feel PROUD!
I stand at the border of two streets.
One, a bleak reminder of dearth,
the other an interval of comfort.
A young girl warms her knuckles,
the brief kindling of a premature flame,
illuminating a comet in her eyes,
as apartment block carollers permeate,
the low hum of privileged rejoicing.
The street reigns quietly.
As if to lull, the stinging disparity
of pennies and breadcrumbs,
as a stray cat roams past, carefree
its tail pointing to neither end
of the street, but up to the sky,
where extinct streets
and forsaken hamlets commune
in the stairways of equity.
Tomorrow is Christmas Day.
In the countdown to the big day,
Comes a thing of Christmas you can’t take away!
The Christmas tree in all its glory,
Can tell hours of stories!
The baubles hidden amongst the leaves,
And on the door is hung a wreath
But nothing beats the tree itself,
Store-bought, cut down, or from an elf!
In your living room, pride of place,
Put a Christmas tree, and celebrate its holiday grace.
Spades take up leaves
No better than spoons,
And bags full of leaves
Are light as balloons.
I make a great noise
Of rustling all day
Like rabbit and deer
Running away.
But the mountains I raise
Elude my embrace,
Flowing over my arms
And into my face.
I may load and unload
Again and again
Till I fill the whole shed,
And what have I then?
Next to nothing for weight,
And since they grew duller
From contact with earth,
Next to nothing for colour.
Next to nothing for use,
But a crop is a crop,
And who’s to say where
The harvest shall stop?
I leave my friends family and home,
To fight in the trenches, a new land I’ll roam.
We march silently into our doom, underneath the bright full moon.
We ready our guns for the attack ahead, I wish myself into my familiar bed.
As I pull firmly on the trigger, inside my head my fear grows bigger.
I look into the eyes of the foes, the frostbite nips at my toes.
My heart longs for home, I’ve never felt so alone.