Skating On Thin Ice
He stamps the ice beneath his feet
Fallen leaves, gifted from the trees clinging to his soles
Softening the thud of clumping boots
Patterns shimmer in the fading light
As he trudges up the path
A reveller hoots
Somebody laughs
A drunk is haloed in the street lamp’s torpid glow
Echoes of himself; of seasons long ago
Surely the decorations were much brighter
Surely the streets were full of singing
Red robins; church bells gaily ringing
Fragrant pine and holly
Those were the seasons to be jolly
Couples kissing ‘neath the mistletoe
Santa bellowing: “Yo ho ho,”
Of course there was proper snow
Not damp and mist
And rain
It’s plain
They’d got Christmas all wrong
Again!
His feet begin to glide
On frost mimicking snow
On his face a grin
He sails through his gate
Never too late to recapture
The rapture......
Of an illicit skate
Copyright © Sheila Haskins | Year Posted 2017
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