The Day That Christmas Died
10 April, 2005
Author: Holly
These coloured lights, they hurt my eyes,
It's morning now, where's my surprise?
All of this feels so mundane,
These forced smiles can't hide the pain.
We sit, and eat, a poor butchered bird,
Seasonal songs too many times heard.
So you say you like your gifts, how can I be sure?
If the snow were to fall, would it make the day more pure?
I don't want to sit here pretending right now,
I'll just sigh as decorations crash down.
A family day together was this meant to be?
Well I'll tell you one thing, next time, count out me.
------- Author's Notes -------
There comes a time in every child's life, where Christmas loses it's magic |
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Comments on this poem/writing:
| Meridian (64.12.116.197) -- Monday, April 11 2005, 07:43 pm Hey Holly! The major fun thing about Christmas is we get out of school for a week and a half! You talking about rejoicing! But I love your poem!! You really do bring out the disappointment and sadness that is expressed in your poem! Take it easy! ---Meri |
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