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Christmas comes but once a year   

      And with it, Christmas cards.

'A Happy Christmas to you dear -   

      We send our best regards.'

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Some come from folk I barely know –
    Well I met them in July –
But there’s nothing else for me to do,
    But return one in reply.

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They come with wishes most sincere
    To tiptoe through my door.

Having travelled far, or from quite near,
    They land upon my floor.

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Look!  Santa Claus and snowy scenes:
    Robins, penguins, sleighs;
Bright silver cards, some reds and greens -
    And 'Greetings' they all say.

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They come from those who never phone
     Or even think to write.
Like thieves their cards creep in my home
     To offer some delight.

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There’s a blow by blow account from one
      Of what they did this year.
While their lives have been packed with fun,
      Mine’s dull, that’s very clear!

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When I’ve been dead for ten whole years,
     They’ll still steal through my door.
Each Christmastime those words of cheer
     Will come just as before.

Copyright on all my poems 

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