This Christmas

O Christmas is dawning

Sure and sure like the morning

Standing to stake chances and lotto

As the pilgrims sing joyfully on their way to grotto

This Christmas, those who perm must hit a jackpot

After-beaches, parlors and many happiness be sought

Like in the best case scenario,

This Christmas shall open to our jubilee

Leaving traces of smile along

Happy moments mov’n from house to house

Tree to tree, here and there like a pandemic

Incoming visitors, come with Champaign

Get off you red wines, getting me somber

Sparkling bottles and biting whiskies

A glass of lemonade doing ourselves good

If I owe, I will pay this December

That’s the deal, can be broken so remember

cos the clock reads tic toc tic toc like the former

But runs silently this December

This Christmas, expecting the harmattan

Mist and her Decemberly fog

Temperatures Fahrenheit the love for the season

Tis the changing weather with less reason

In a blink, and the northern breeze

The cold, these blankets call for extra

O this Christmas, longings that never cease

Many shall compare with many

And only few shall see the difference; only few

Rest, and dress well, mother hen

This Christmas, keep your cool

We visit the bleating pen

For there is enough, enough wool

Souls with meaning, meaning to life

Only a call, Out of hand, out of sight,

But never out of memory

Get some roses, color this Christmas

Bow’n like Moses, a ceremonial servant

This Christmas goes sightseeing

A toast by the way-side café

Or exclaim

‘’an outing can bring some healing’’

For this Christmas is passing soon

And be replac’d by the dying moon

Is this Christmas about Mary?

Then the occasion is for merry

This Christmas, we shall hold hands with love

Walk’n the streets, each turning a criminal

Criminals the more, but not of law

cos everyone shall steal one look and another

Walk about, go gay and shout

Joy aloud, as boxes and giving abound,

Happiness come all announced

I remain civil

This Christmas, every sleeping eye shall dream

And every dreaming man; let him work

cos all cliffs lower,

Lower like the sower

And when everything is over

We shall hang pictures, and say; goodbye

 This Christmas, comes not again