Poetry

Tim Kitchen


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12 december 2013

The Christmas Box.

  
Snow hadn’t fallen overnight, but a heavy frost had covered the ground
and in the morning, a little boy ran downstairs in his dressing gown.
He could see the lights from the tree, as he skipped his way down the hall
it was Christmas day, many years ago and Father Christmas had made his call.
And there under the Christmas tree, was a rather large cardboard box
it was full of carefully wrapped presents of toys, sweets and new football socks!
 
 
 
The biggest present waiting for him was a Hornby Electric Train
and an Airfix kit for him to build a Lancaster aeroplane.
Also there to his delight, was a holster with a toy silver gun
and some favourite Dinky Toys, for him to have some fun.
It was definitely going to be a time, to play and play all day,
and later, when the Queen’s speech came on, he just had to sneak away.
 
 
 
He went into another room and saw the large cardboard box
he took off his shoes and climbed into it, wearing his new football socks.
In his mind he was in a boat, sailing the southern seas
looking at the stars in a foreign sky, sails flapping in the breeze.
He played for hours in his boat; it brought him so much joy
a cardboard box had turned out to be, his favourite Christmas toy!
 
 
 ( Christmas time, when I was a boy)






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