Baubles
I see my face
fish-eyed in the baubles
purple, green, gold
I can be any colour I choose
My nose is the mountain
on which my spectacles rest
my ears distant kites
taken by the northern winds
Fairy Lights
Boa of twisted wire
I snake around the boughs
and branches bedecked
with coloured globes
and trinkets suspended
by golden thread
it is in my nature to scatter
fragmented light into the dark
I am a glowing memory
of nostalgic wonder
It’s the thought that counts
As a tree I wore many jumpers,
hanger for awkward designs
As a drink you saw me as
gassy pale lager in a stubby bottle
As a Christmas pudding you felt
I needed brandy flames to enliven me
As a mask I wore a Christmas smile
Andy Eycott
