Christmas grows old before
It's begun, weary presents,
Dangerous air.
The 12 kilo turkey that will
Last all of January, a mountain
Of tired ageing veg
Romance put back in the fridge
Has become the order of the
Day, deflated glory in solitude
Looking at the full moon
Bandaged in its halo, cold and
Empty. A thread of wind brings
No change as it weaves its path
Time drips slowly by chest deep
In history looking for happier times
As the world turns
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem