Alternativity

It’s not December - it is June but my tree’s not coming down till you walk back into the room. Your dinner’s in the oven, your pudding’s well matured and here’s your Christmas song - unheard. I know I never needed you before but now there’s needles all over the floor. Needless to say - my tree bows bare. I’m stuck here in Christmas time. My belly’s on the blink and I stink of cheap mulled wine. The fairy on the tree is all tangled up in tinsel and its wand has lost its twinkle. I never thought that you would leave but you unpacked Santa’s sack and turned your back on Christmas Eve. Needless to say - my tree bows bare. There’s a cracker on the table just waiting to be pulled. I banged mine alone last night and felt a lowly tool. A little plastic heart fell out, the joke inside’s on me – something about lonely pricks being folly and not jolly holly. Six months ago this little baby boy was born. Now his mistletoe is limp and looking all forlorn. The moment you turned on the lights the cold ice went all slushy – this dog’s for life you know, not just a puppy. I fed your firry tree with love and dedication but I’d have been better off if I’d have got an imitation. Needless to say - my tree bough’s bare. I’ve face-booked and I’ve tweeted but I think you have deleted me by accident – it’s easy at this time of year. So I re-mailed you all my details but my messages must have failed ‘cause this turkey’s all dressed up and you’re not here. And I’m desperately pining for some Christmas cheer. At least it’s only six months till the same time, same place, next year. I’m gonna spruce myself up, dress myself down – next year’s Christmas is there for the taking. The tree will still be up, the lights will still be on. I’ve done your Christmas song and I don’t mind waiting.

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