October is here, the middle of Autumn,
That special time of year,
When shopkeepers rub their hands together,
And wheel out their Christmas gear.
The unsold tat from previous years,
Displayed on shelves once more,
The dancing snowmen, singing elves,
And tacky ornaments filling the store.
Don’t get me wrong, I love Christmas,
And I’m not trying to put you off it,
But I mourn for the spirit of peace and love,
Killed off by greed and profit.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Very true. Christmas is the season of profit, at least in this century. Lovely write!