By Richard Wallace
Ribbons and paper lie at the feet
of the cold man asleep in the door
and I just have to say, “It’s a red letter day…..
Merry Christmas, cruel tricks on the poor”.
Busses and taxis add colour and sound
to the scene that plays out at his feet;
and the fat man looks weird in his red coat
and beard as he shuffles his way down the street.
Snow falling down tends to muffle the sound;
that cloud is my mood in the sky.
It’s a short walk up town so I go look around
just to check out the things people buy.
When I think of the joy on my little girl’s face
I’m glad that I stole from that store.
Not a bright thing to do but my spirit held true,
“Merry Christmas, cruel tricks on the poor”.
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