ARISTOCRATIC CHRISTMAS

The goose was plucked for Christmas
Not a feather was in sight
The butler cleaned the silver
Cook baked with all of her might
The aristocrats in the morning room
Sipped a sherry or two
Whilst waiting for their dinner
It was the thing to do

All dressed in their finery
The children there as well
All except for Grandpa
(The stories he could tell!)
No one alas was listening
And no one noticed there
He’d on one foot a slipper
And the other was quite bare.

Below stairs was quite hectic
Upstairs all serene
And all along the passageways
And sometimes in between
Servants rushed as servants do
To make things run with ease
Tending fires fetching things
Aiming just to please

And Grandpa sat and nodded
His head sank on his chest
He remembered long ago
The Christmas he’d thought best
With one foot in a slipper
The other one quite bare
He waited for his dinner
Sat there in his chair

And soon the gong it sounded
Its boom rang loud and clear
They all trooped in the dining room
With those they held so dear
The table was resplendent
The glasses gleamed and shone
The cutlery was sparkling
The goose it weighed a ton

The master carved the mistress smiled
The children looked in awe
The butler served the vegetables
(Cos that’s what they are for)
The pudding was amazing
The brandy sauce was ace
They ate and ate until alas
No more could they face

All except for Grandpa
He was sat quite still
And no one noticed him not there
As they all ate their fill
With one foot in his slipper
The other one quite bare.
On Christmas day he died alone
Sat there in his chair.


© Pamela Brooke 2009

I want to play the song of my life
to the beat of your heart;
float and sink into your warm embrace.
A rythm so captivating
so soft,
so sure,
so steady.
I never want to lift my ear
from it's source;
never want to leave it's company.
This ***** that keeps time for me,
has given me a reason for being,
for bettering,
for loving,
for nurturing the seeds,
of a future
where our hearts pulse in sync
til they dont.