Fay Slimm - Christmas Reunions

Vehicles in myriads transporting the nation
Intent on gathering round yuletide hearth.
Annual homing, pilgrim migration
Decides. when arriving, Christmas can start.
Is anyone going to the Sales?

Number One daughter, collapses in chair,
Dead to the world, stays out for the count.
Hung over from last night's beer, ribboned hair
Now dishevelled, denies she'd drunk that amount
And survived, stony- dry mouthed, she says icely
Someone must take her to the Sales.

Son bustles in, grinning his way through hugs
Arms full of stringy brown packaged unknowns
Dives for the fridge, lays full length on the rug
And hogs the telly all day, plus the phone
Conceitedly believing he's being nice.
He knows what he wants from the Sales.

At last arrive oldsters, spluttering gaily,
Protesting this as their best time of year.
Coats off and couched, they state any delay
In booze means more mistletoe usage, near-
Neat whisky and gin only ever suffice!
And don't forget drink from the Sales

Dinner digesting, now ritual games
Begin with controlled opening of gifts.
Cooing delights as each Designer named
High-priced tag appears, craftily lifted
To show off who has bought the best prize.
But most will be swapped in the Sales.

How dimmed and afar seems the Christmas star
Which commerce now tinsels and cling wraps, in
Unhealthy deception that love is not marred
By so much devotion to gold.The saddest sin
Is omission of truth, - as too high a price.
Which just does not come in the Sales.

Fay Slimm

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/christmas-reunions/