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Auld Lang Sighs
It doesn’t happen everyday
Through perilous weather, flies Santa’s sleigh
Reflecting in the Winter sun
Are its legs, in gunmetal grey
Yet as Christmas Eve turns to Morning
Falling behind red-silk and cotton
Among the frost
One’s mind is lost
And all else is forgotten
The children play with what was brought
Without as much as a second thought
From where these marvellous gifts came
Or in the manner how they were wrought
To gratitude, they must adhere
In the closing of the year
Unaware that these times are austere
And each of their new toys, hold near
While countless harsh weeks lie ahead
A return to school, many will dread
And memories, so bittersweet
Will be recalled instead
They say that what goes up, must come down
Such includes the crib and tree
The wrapping and its debris
Whilst wearing a cap and gown
This cold new year evokes a frown
Copyright ©
Tadgh Quill-Manley
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