This will be the last post on my blog this year, so I thought I’d make it a festive one. I am looking forward to Christmas this year; looking back on the past year, I have made some important improvements in my life, and I’m genuinely excited for the next decade, despite the political turmoil my country is in. I’ve always thought my thirties will be my most exciting decade, which sucks for my later ones, I guess, but I can be excited for it now, anyway.
So, I’m feeling better this Christmas than I was my last one. Here is a poem I wrote last December, which reflects the more sombre mood as that year drew to a close:
Sparkling lights on dark days. Grey mist and snow upon the hills. Fog and rain. Carols on the radio.
Frantic crowds, caught up in the national wave. Propelled by an imperative.
Christmas pudding by the fire. Walks through dark streets, home.
A collective memory, of childhoods long ago. The excitement of Christmas Eve. Grandparents coming around. Sitting on the carpet, expectantly. The smell of Granny’s tights.
To be that excited again…
Nostalgia for the years gone by. Gone, into sepia. Into dust. Into wine.
A time of looking back to the trodden path; it glistens, overlaid with dew of new days, obscuring the grain.
And looking forward, to the clock that chimes on New Year’s Eve.
This is the passing of the days; the ancient days. When all the world seems to stand still. In peace, in collective memory.
It’s a bit rough around the edges, I know. I might work on it a bit more. But I thought it was good enough to put up.
On that note, have a good Christmas, everyone, and don’t forget to crack open the Baileys! (Or other sinful beverage of your choice).
I’ll see you in the new year (2020! We’ll be in the future!)