Monday, 5 January 2015

The Christmas Gift

They walked beside the river,
swollen from heavy sleet.
He felt the matted grass
crunch beneath his feet.
In his pocket he knew
a secret, terrible and raw.
She said that she was freezin'
and what'd they come 'ere for?

Her white throat, silly heels
puffer jacket, trinkets gold,
she said that she was goin' back;
his fingers tightened on the cold
blade, eager in his coat.
They'd come a little way now
he could maybe do it here:
he'd already worked out how.

There were no angels singing
a church bell didn't ring,
he felt no warm compassion,
(he never felt a thing).
But he eased up on the handle,
said Yeah, you're right, let's go
and as they walked towards the road
the sky began to snow.

Published on Ink Sweat and Tears 31/12/2013
(12 Days of Christmas)

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