December Sunday.

 December Sunday


It’s a dark December Sunday

The rain splatters windows

With drops forming patterns

That bring some magic to the road outside. 


It’s a time for feeding dogs

Then heading back to bed

Feeling no guilt at all

But keeping warm instead. 


Banished the days on sunny beaches

When we caught a second summer 

In warmer climes just four hours away

Now we huddle up beneath the covers. 


The company of a library book

To the background sound of radio

While the raindrops paint the windows

Looking on a misty urban road. 


We turn a page and look

As a gust buffets our comfy home

Bright with Christmas tree and white lights

While families shudder in cold Ukraine. 


Child of Kyiv and Prague

Listen to our prayers 

Bring strength to all good souls

These wet and windy Christmas hours.

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