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Poetry from within

Tis the Season

Christmas Sonnet

Nomenclature allows for different form

Of title we ascribe to Him who brings

On ‘Christmas Eve’ whilst all are tuck’d up warm

He flies about without the need of wings

Exuding joy and merriment, He calls

On each and every child whom doth believe

For those among who doubt the truth; installs

Such wonderment, that none could scarce conceive

Tis Santa or St Nich’ - “ou Père Noël"

What e’er the guise He takes is of one mind

To sow the seed within, to cast His spell

For each of us in turn to be as kind

Tho childhood dreams may seem far distant now

‘His' Season brings out best in each, somehow

Richard Gildea

FootNote: PS. Merry Christmas to all on Flow