I am honoured to be able to wish everyone a very happy Christmas - as I duly do - with this poem by Wendy Cope. I post it here with Wendy's kind permission.
We had to leave our home. We travelled here
With all our worldly goods - box after box
Of crockery and books, our furniture,
Our pictures, mirrors, lamps and rugs and clocks.
In its pot our precious Christmas tree,
A straggly adolescent, four years old,
Survived the journey, waited patiently
Till it was time to come in from the cold.
Now it's lit up in all its annual glory,
Hung with treasures taken out of store.
Every little trinket tells a story,
A memoir of the life we had before.
We got through the disruption and the pain.
The tree is telling us we're home again.