(I realise that we are way past January but having noticed the posting today "Hum Bug" I thought ...why not. The format is concrete poetry so needs to be viewed on my personal page.)

Sian

                                            Jan

                                           -uary

                                         beckons,

                                       post-festive

                                joylessness envelops

                              even the most cheerful.

                      Time to strip the decked halls of their

            holly. "We wish you a Merry Christmas" as distant

                                       as childhood.

                           Now I wish for a cozy cottage

                       with warm fire and soft armchair. To

                  sit with slippers and dressing gown by the

                Christmas tree. Instead I bravely bring in the

                                         New Year,

                                         in queues

                                         with other

                                       down turned

                               mouths, staring through

                                the postoffice window

                                at the men who came

                                 and hacked, chopped

                                 and chipped the town

                                tree...until all that was

                                 left was a memory of

                                  pine in the cold air.