We tiptoe into wintry times
November with its burnished leaves
Is whipped by gusts of wind and grieves.
Though ghosts and ghouls are packed away
Those pumpkins, finely carved, still stay
On neighbours' windowsills and greet
Dog walkers passing in our street.
There are loads of toys in every store
An Aladdin's cave ripe to explore
Tinsel, baubles, Christmas lights
A wealth of colour that delights.
We reach the 'back end' of the year
A time the homeless greatly fear
Needing shelter, peace and quiet
Not consumer goods run riot!
The «Haves» and «Have Nots» can't compete;
The City tries their needs to meet
While many stress: what gifts to buy -
Our values all have gone awry...
(c) Poet in the woods 2017
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