All the glitter and the baubles and the fake razzamataz,
Forced jollity and bonhomie berating me by turns;
The jostling and shoving in the shops and all that jazz,
The same unwanted present where the giver never learns;
And I will dream of summer, tidal ripples in the sand
An evening's float of thistledown adrift in hazy sky
The small face of a daisy, lying cool against my hand
The vast coastal horizon, where the seagulls swoop and fly.
You can keep your holly wreaths mourning your lack of taste
You can keep Sir Clifford, all the mistletoe and wine
You can stuff the turkey, lay the hangover to waste,
You can keep your sentimental dreams, leave me to mine...
Just let me dream of summer, how I miss its warming light;
The soothing breath of lavender, the grass beneath my feet;
The bright palette of verdant greens, the shorter hours of night;
I'll deck the halls with roses, daffodils and meadowsweet.