No 252    November 24


Over the last few months,

Iíve sent a poem each day,

Iím grateful for you reading them,

Seeing what Iíve got to say.


Iíve tried to keep it topical,

And to give you positivity,

And sometimes I have managed,

To put in some hilarity.


This year Christmas wonít be the same,

Of that we are quite sure,

But somewhere on the horizon,

They may have found a cure.


This year when you go shopping,

No need to clear the shelves,

Mince pies and carrots you wonít need,

For Santa and his elves.


Itís really only two days,

But we shop like weíre at war,

We stuff ourselves to capacity,

Like we never ate before.


We buy in tons of biscuits,

Chocolates and nuts with shells,

Itís just if somebody wants them,

But weíve to eat them all ourselves.


You make a wonderful dinner,

And games for after you did keep,

But when you want to play them,

Everybodyís gone to sleep.


So this year will be different,

Letís not go off the rails,

Weíll all think this Christmas was the best,

When we jump upon the scales.