Not the brushing of hair, best clothes
Glass of sherry before Midnight Mass
Walk to church under the frosted stars and a slice of moon
Not the quiet time listening to carols on Radio 3
Wrapping presents, piling them under the tree
Not a light meal ahead of the gorging of Christmas Day.
Not these delights, no.
Car park full. No shopping trolleys to hand
Broken down boxes in metal cages blocking the aisles
Parents with children dragging behind
Barren shelves, bar the odd crumpled tin
Chaos at the check-outs, not enough staff
No pasta, no toilet rolls, no hand sanitiser
Flustered staff, all good manners drained
Sick of re-stating that tomorrow’s delivery might carry the stock
No promises, no guarantees
Just like Christmas Eve, but without the joy.
n.b. Corona virus panic buying in full swing I hear.
There is a charity box on Albert Road, Southsea which carries a message, “Give what you can. Take what you need.” We live in hope that the essence of these words filters through.