The Trouble With Christmas Poem by Simone Bryce

The trouble with Christmas: in Australia it's hot,
yet most of our images come from places it's not.

We're shown chilly snowmen, robins on a fence,
But one look out the window sees a sun too intense.

Santa greets children in a full fur-trimmed suit
The man must be boiling - he needs things, not big boots.

We don't hear sleigh bells or roast chestnuts on fires.
The songs we are singing seem to make us all liars.

The trouble with Christmas: we're all meant to be jolly.
Too bad if you don't feel like plum pudding and holly.

You get roped into "fun", and you'd better enjoy it,
Or else you're a Scrooge or a Grinch who'll destroy it.

It all seems so forced and so hectic and stressful.
What's wrong with desiring a time that's more restful.

You don't have to hate Christmas to think it's all a bit crazy
And just want to spend time by the pool, being lazy.