The Magic Number

By Charlotte Tucker

‘Tis the season to be jolly!
But look at the plumptious Holly,
A reminder of the harsh winter to come.
Tiny micro-organisms turning festivities,
Into popularity contest sensitivities,
Who is it that will make the cut of three?
Who’d have thought before Rona gained its mojo,
We’d be bombarded with three part slogans from BoJo,
With Zoom plugging into the gap of a hug from your mum.
Inclusive? Exclusive, but only through care,
Perhaps over-cautious at a time meant to share,
I can choose… but responsiblised if sanitiser cannot erase the sharing of more than my gifts.
This year an inclusive Christmas for me,
Is by the fire and tree,
With Bordeaux, Merlot and the dogs.

This year has been isolating for many, and I feel wary of bringing others down with negative emotions during the limited social or online contact available, particularly when others could be struggling so much more. I found writing this poem a way of exploring these emotions. Although pretty gloomy, I felt more in control of an uncontrollable situation by cheering it up through rhyme and rhythm.

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