Graham’s in the living room dismantling the tree. Dolly’s on the spare bed dreaming softly. Softly with claws that is because now and then she dreams of something squeaky and suitable for killing and then it doesn’t do to disturb her suddenly.
And I, I am sitting in my study looking out of the window, watching the winter sun melt snow on the hill tops and smiling when a bold squirrel leaps through the branches of my favourite tree. And listening closely to the words of a new favourite song for the last time this Christmas. You do have to listen to the words.
~~+~~
~~+~~
