It smells like Christmas.
Gold, green, blue, red
draped over the tree
from top to bottom,
glistening as the
lights from the fairies
shine through
and around them.

A glorious sight in the corner
of the room, silent strands
of colour, metal strewn
all over an otherwise plain tree.
The most colourful our living room is,
the time when December rolls around,
boys of the NYPD choir still sing
over the Christmas period.