D.O.A. (Poetry)

They’ve gone and murdered Christmas
now officially it’s dead
holding parties is forbidden
so some pompous killjoy’s said

They have outlawed old traditions
hence the family can’t come
round to celebrate together
so no feasting and no fun

Oh, there’s been a few suggestions
folk might gather safe online
and for techno generations
virtual visits might be fine

but the flesh and blood among us
like the ghost of Christmas past
mourn the spirit that is missing
since the panto lacks a cast

What’s the point of decorating
with no visitors to see
all the baubles, bells and glitter
and the fibre-optic tree?

There’s a few cards on the mantel
and a wreath hung on the door
there’s a turkey in the freezer
big enough to feed a score

But the relatives aren’t coming
they’re in lockdown one and all
so I won’t hang up my stocking
for I doubt Saint Nick will call

It’s a travesty — quite cheerless
with its peaceful message lost
no angels near — no atmosphere
and hope’s spread thin as frost

Let us drink a toast to Christmas
all the happy ones we’ve known
give thanks for ready-meals-for-one
pull the crackers on our own