Gothic Christmas Poem by Amy Sutton

Frost creeps over the land
And bites deep into the neck of autumn,
Draining it of colour.
Trees hunch, naked skeletons,
Their gnarled fingers clutching
At the unforgiving metal sky.
Birds and flowers make a hasty exit –
There is no space for life here.
Christmas lights blink weakly,
Small garish patches in the looming darkness.
And I pull on my hobnailed boots,
My black coat,
And crunch down the frozen lane
To the white quiet
Of the glimmering graveyard,
Where I crouch like a gargoyle,
Staring up at the inky sky,
Waiting for the chilling sound
Of distant sleigh bells.