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Fresh juice of naval
Beckoning within skin
Promising treacle
Orange and sweet
Bowl bursting, glows

Seatedon floor
Ready to devour
Baby walks in, spies
Stands firm
Hand outstretchged
Sure okay, share with you

Loves it, like Gran when a child
Delighted in sweet juice
Dripping on chest
But baby must stay dry
Clad in large apron wrap
Covering designer overalls
Chomps, tastes, smiles
Bursting brim to brim
Yes, naval juice!
Demands more and more
Oh, no!
Saturated right through
It began outside a stable
Town of Bethlehem 2000 years ago
Shepherds left their fileds in awe
To find Jesus in wooden manger
       Two lines to choose back then
One compulsory, one was not
Caesar's census; revenue and crowd control
Other line was quiet; sanctified, seeking Christ Child
Wise men far away, figured, joined the queue
Followed the star, joined the queue

On sand and snow or bitumen black
Trekking fields, forests thick or cities tall
Across the earth, people know
       Where to find the queue
Not online; Get up and go
Christmas Eve or Christmas Day
Local churches, chapels small
Country barns, church cafes
Line up outside the doors
       Worship Jesus

— The End —