Secret whispers

 

In secret whispers,

clandestine meetings.

Subterfuge and lies,

behind which they hide.

They organised

their Christmas greetings,

whilst we were all told to stay inside.

 

In concealed conversations,

underhand rendezvous,

truths covered up,

corruption seeped through.

The spirit of Christmas,

Scrooge would be proud,

as they feasted on finery.

Whilst the rest of us sat heads bowed.

 

Tales of Bethlehem

seemingly only for them.

The covert assembly

sang carols merrily.

whilst we were left cold.

They were so bold

behind closed doors.

You could hear laughter roar

as rules were ignored

and they pulled crackers lined with gold.

 

Stealthy gatherings,

furtive forums.

Whilst we sit at home alone.

No festive cheer

only fear of the unknown.

They told us not to meet,

don't dare walk the streets.

Never leave the house,

fear the disease,

it’s always ready to pounce.

Be fearful of friends bringing treats,

family shouldn't take a seat.

 

No Christmas turkey,

no carved, sliced meat.

Yet in Downing Street

They had a feast; all you can eat.

I'm beginning to feel mistreated.

The rules needed to be followed,

they insisted.

Funny the way rules work,

funny the way the virus doesn't lurk

when it's a Tory Christmas party.

Must be one of their perks.

 

 

Thanks for reading

Peace, Love and Poetry

Kyle