Twelfth Night - Decorations down
Here's a love poem about taking down the Christmas decorations. It was published by the Huddersfield Examiner 06/01/2007.
The season’s passed; the trimmings come to floor
From where I’d fixed them at your well-judged mark.
But your bright beauty won’t go back to store
Along with lights that flashed once in the dark.
Your beauty needs no extra signs for me;
No festive letters shouting out ‘Rejoice!’.
In each ball’s shining surface I still see
Your perfect face by any painter’s choice.
Unlike full-fruited Nature, bought and pinned
Through its stem to wall at trophy height,
Your beauty’s free – not bauble to be binned
Or boxed away in cupboards out of sight.
Now I will see in place of those things there
Not emptiness, but beauty all this year.