The Lights of Christmas
by Marjorie Morrison
The twinkling lights of emerald green
And brilliant blue and white
Are piercing darkness, all enshrouded
In the black of night.
The cul-de-sac where I’ve lived for more than ten years is
friendly, well-ordered and peaceful.
Dogs are controlled and the only children nowadays are visiting ones.
Yet from the beginning of December each year, it is transformed into a
sparkling wonderland. Lights of every colour
decorate bushes and outline doors and windows.
Tall Christmas trees stand in rooms purposefully left with curtains
open.
The next
cul-de-sac is equally bright; their lights changing from one colour to another, making weird shapes and patterns over plants and bushes.
This is the first place I’ve
lived where such enthusiasm is shown.
Long may it last.
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