White Christmas (Life Poem)
Grey skies, contrasting bone-white tree skeletons,
Trudging home for Christmas is an endless nightmare,
Second night hotel-less on a Heathrow bed-less floor,
The crisp white snowiness of home but a distant hope,
Media revels in this travellers’ misery, so switch off,
I think I will head home somewhat earlier next year,
This snow bound, homeward bound, hopeless man.
poem by Ian Beckett
Added by Poetry Lover
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