Marion Sharville

For once, I think I have this Christmas sussed.
I bought my greetings cards back in July.
To beat the post I knew I simply must
be ready as the festive time drew nigh.

I clamped them in a brand new rubber band,
prepared to be delivered by my hand.
The postage on them all would break the bank.
…I hope I have enough fuel in my tank.
Some will need stamps, who live so far away;
not seen for fifty years, if it’s a day.

If I don’t send to Lucy she will think
that I have shuffled off this mortal coil.
I’d hate to think that worrying might spoil
her Christmas dinner, parson knows that she
is definitely years ahead of me

and someone in New Zealand, I met once,
who, every year, a calendar he sends
and obviously needs a kind response;
I choose a card I hope, will not offend.

I’m absolutely shattered and I’m skint.
I’ve done up all my parcels; wrapped them well.
The Cellotape’has driven me to drink,
It’s good to have so many friends…I think

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