a breath of christmas


a slender slither of moonlight
swings above a sleeping city.
a feathery breeze
freshens the air,
collecting muffled scents
of butter,
and mulled wine.
the scented swathes
drift over red-brick houses,
shiny glass pinnacles
cement-coated castles
and forlorn-looking flats,
leaving its mark.
as it merges with night,
its last breath
rustles the straw
in the roof
of the final
thatched cottage
that sits on the edge of town,
as a reminder
of the way
we used to be.


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