That Time of Year Again

Jonathan sits close to the fireplace mantle piece adorned with nativity scene a crucifix is dangling from a rusty nail cold as winter can be there is no money for a few logs and the electricity meter has eaten his last couple of coins it was no joy when he smashed the piggy bank he cut his fingers on a few shards ‘blood of Christ’ he muttered naked salvation pierced to shreds skin barely covering his frosty fingers now an old bandana made for a bandage bones aching as the fever of the festive season passed by his soul and his heart and the radio blared carols and meaningless trash he did not feel more lonely than normal his children rarely called and he wished for a gas oven just for temporary heat and demise his cardigan needed a wash and he had that unpleasant feeling of smelling his very own grime no punch and no mince pies though pious he always remained how he wished it was summer when he would sit on a park bench and the walk to the food bank was easy but now his energy was always sapped as soon as he returned to his rotten abode and passing the ‘Jolly Sailor’ with no money left him sober and bereft ‘Merry merciless Christmas’ to me he whispered into the cold air inside his home and within himself and swallowed the pills he had been hoarding for months he left without any complaints but graced the Good Lord for giving him courage to end it all and had a last quiet chuckle that his kids would have to pay for his funeral 27th November 2022 Contest Writing Challenge Write a Christmas poem Sponsor Constance La France