A week to Christmas, cards of snow and holly,
Gimcracks in the shops,
Wishes and memories wrapped in tissue paper,
Trinkets, gadgets and lollipops
And as if through coloured glasses
We remember our childhood’s thrill
Waking in the morning to the rustling of paper,
The eiderdown heaped in a hill
Of dogs and bears and bricks and apples
And the feeling that Christmas Day
Was a coral island in time…
It’s actually a little over a week to Christmas, but the shops are certainly full of gimcracks, trinkets and gadgets. Everywhere is busy with people and bright with lights, and the spice-rich scent of vin chaud is filling the air of the Christmas markets here.
This is the last extract from Macneice’s Autumn Journal, a poem which has seen me through the months from late August to mid December. I hope you’ve enjoyed it as much as I have.