Sans government - yet Christmas tree
With lofty boughs, now proud to be
Star-studded feature in main square;
Bewitched tourists stop and stare!
Chalets pop up by the Bourse:
Mulled wine and gifts to tempt - of course;
While temperatures drop below
That magic 4 degrees – no snow.
We fish out warmer hats and coats
Wrap woollen scarves around our throats
Leaving home when it’s still dark;
Did we remember where to park?
Quaint shops put on their brightest show
Overhead the street lights glow;
A sense of expectation reigns…
“What! More STIB strikes?” a voice complains!
(c) Poet in the woods 2025
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