An Empty Red Pillar Box Poem by Mark Heathcote

I love saying 'Merry Christmas' or
I did as a kid expecting a gift,
but always along comes disappointment
the Pound-Store bow and arrow snapped
having no backbone or marrow, no-
strength to last even a single day.
It exemplified family tensions
in just the same-colourful way.
I remember gifts that came with no-
permission to touch - too expensive
to play with - then return to the shop
or the local thief, the man in the pub,
who'd knocked them off, so poor parents
like mine could save a bob. I remember
those ritual visits to my parent's folks
that foot-tapping itch to-leave-just as
soon as we would enter. I remember
saying 'Merry Christmas' and believing
that others like me also really meant it.
But always along comes disappointment
like a large-cardboard-box and inside
you realise there's just another box of frogs,
and the future is just an empty, Christmas Eve red pillar box.