Stop the Clocks 

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. 

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