from the tattered box
as old as me chipped and tired
mum’s nativity
I’d enviously
peer at it imagining
the great games I’d play
I would shove the sheep
out the stable far from King
Herod’s tyranny
And sneakily I’d
position my plastic toy
soldiers to guard Him
they’d have shot his men
like in the Victor comics
Budda Budda “Arrghh!”
The three wise men would
tentatively approach Him
safe from their grenades
my brave company
British commandos mostly
and a few Vikings
I’d be told off when
mum’s silent panther steps would
catch me red handed
I’d always return
to play the Jesus war game
this year I’ll be good
No comments:
Post a Comment