Sunday 27 March 2011

The Season of Ill Will

It’s Christmas eve, and the snow’s falling fast
the gift received will surely (sadly) last
for you achieve, again, to ruin the past
as you now leave, my worst Christmas has passed.

It’s Christmas day, as I indulge too much.
Deadly dismay, dithering double Dutch.
No words to say, for my feelings are such.
Happy songs play, but I’m way out of touch.

Happy new year! Starting season of change
so no more beer for I can’t find my range.
Shed no tear. My new found joy is strange;
as the snow clears its seen I was deranged

They say ‘tis the season to be jolly
so smile and bear your despair and folly.

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