Although it is just being published now some six weeks late, this tiny post was written on the first day of December, or to be more accurate, the early hours of Second December, as will be understood from the narrative of the little untitled doggerel poem which concludes it.
It was one of those days, which rarely occur, when I felt unusually devoid of the need or wish to write anything at all. When I tried to sleep though, there was something on my mind about this final month of 2020.
Little Untitled Doggerel Piece
Tonight I thought I had emptied my brain
Would never know inspiration again.
Proceeded to bed without writing a word
Convinced that I had no thoughts to be heard.
But as my head the pillow met
My brain would not let me settle yet.
This day, I thought, begins the final month
Which used to crack with sounds of snowflake crunch –
Which now tends to shiver under wetness of showers.
Importantly there’s news now to light these dark hours
As we hear of a vaccine that apparently prevents
The virus, let’s have patience during family events.
Let’s do without hugs to counter our chills –
Let this year not herald a Christmas that kills.
I’d love to embrace you but the best I can give
Is Look forward to next year and hope we all live.
It may seem premature – this advent just begun –
But Christmas will be special in 2021
When there will be hugs and kisses aplenty to be shared
And your skin will sting with rashes from my unkempt lockdown beard.