Christmas Poem

Christmas, the time of family and gifts.

Trees wearing lights like scarves.

Stars on the top of their heads like shimmering hats.

Artificial snowmen hanging from them like earrings.

Reading Christmas stories for them to imagine movies

Of the Grinch and his journey in the snow of icing sugar.

Pohutukawa and their reaching fingers, longing to be chosen for a BBQ.

Knowing the true meaning of a warm NZ Christmas.

Poem

Poems are movies you can’t watch.

You can see everything so vivid,

Yet it’s like a dream world.

And everyone has their own world.

My sky is a warm cotton blue blanket.

My moon is a cheese eaten by mice.

My mud is melted chocolate in a brown bowl.

My birds are paper planes gliding up, and down.

Your sky could be a mixture of cotton candy and blue fizzy.

Your moon could be a banana punctured by needles.

Your mud could be chocolate ice cream and chocolate sauce.

And your birds could be knives slicing through hard winds.