Its almost twelfth night and I’m feeling quite sad,
Said the fairy on top of the tree,
When your way past fifty it quite gets you mad,
When you see what they’re doing to me.
Hauled out every Christmas and tied to a twig,
It’s hardly a yearly surprise,
And I’m not even dusted, they don’t care a fig,
So what would a poor girl surmise?
Though festooned with glitter, I’ll not be profane,
I will stick to the seasonal cheer,
For once every twelve month I’m stuck here again,
From December right through to New Year.
The tatty old robin is fading with age,
His feathers a lustreless brown,
And he never says nothing, a real empty page,
Still I smile, though I’d much rather frown.
The lights start to flicker, another blown fuse,
The holly wreath dries on the door,
The left over turkey makes seven-day stews,
And the pine needles heap on the floor,
And I think of the past years when first I was made,
When my wings were as bright as the moon,
Of days full of laughter not like this charade,
The days that have faded too soon.
But I have seen love in the mind of a man,
And the joy of a woman who cares,
For she knows that in all he does all that he can,
And thus will do all that he dares,
So as I’m put back in the box once again,
With the trinkets and baubles so bright,
There’s a thought that goes with me a year to sustain,
And to warm in the darkest of night.
We all have our treasure though be it so small,
And we all have a soul and a heart,
When we love one another we answer a call,
And no anger can force us apart,
If we hold to each other we grow day by day,
While we sail on an uncharted sea,
Horizons are only an embrace away,
And I know they are even for me.