poetry

December

Wrapped up in bobble hats

And borrowed scarves,

With fluffy socks tucked inside boots,

and hands tucked inside jumper sleeves

where we wipe cold noses

being nipped by winter.

We pop inside for a coffee

and a catch-up;

The warmth from inside steamed up 

my glasses-

The cold from outside frosting up

the windows.

We can only see hazes of

coloured lights and street lights

and shapes of people passing by

with shopping bags and old friends.

Jingle bells play over the clinks 

of teacups and plates

and cosy conversation.

It’s the most wonderful time

Of the year.

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