Too Old for This

I am going to be submitting these pieces to a local Plymouth publication called Anthologia on the theme of 'Tradition', this second being a slightly cynical look back at the beliefs most, if not all of us, had when we were young.

No more gifts beneath the tree

Signed by jolly Santa Claus,

No more jingle as he leaves

His sack beside my bed,

I leave him wine and mince pies –

But end up eating them instead.

No more egg-shaped chocolate

Left by little rabbit paws,

No more plastic tub of crème eggs,

No Guylian or Nestle,

I leave them a large carrot –

But step on it the next day.

No more pound beneath my pillow

For the tooth of my young jaws,

No more hideous display

Of pearly gnashers on a page,

This time I can leave nothing –

I foot my own bill at this age.