This, I believe, was penned five years ago. There is a certain quiet Boxing Day that I have always relished. Merry Christmas to anyone reading this.
Stop The Clocks
The dust settles, as ever, on Boxing Day
Whether Christmas Day passed pleasantly
Or with excitement and action, displaced
Air reoccupies space, footsteps into houses fade
Plates sit drying while tops to bottles sleep
As opened tipples slowly deplete in the day
After leisure, leisurely ticking the seconds by
As Christmas becomes a memory
For the first time, silence strolls into the room
Lounges comfortably on the sofa, before knocking
On your bedroom door and inviting himself in
Time stops for a second though the Sun continues to set
Clocks stopped you sit and gaze out your window
Devoid of noise and movement; you draw the peace
To you with outstretched arms and watch as the
Sun plays on the snow outside, uncaring of the coming horizon
Slothy Slothmas, one and all.
Sloth, with food baby in tow, out.