The Advent Calendar
Chilly, but still not frosty,
Gloomy, but still not snug –
The first door may be open,
But we’ve yet to feel the tug.
Oh sure, the shops accost us,
But the season’s still a trudge,
And the choc’late that we’re hoping for
Is still a plain old fudge.
The first door that we entered
Is still twenty-three away –
There’s three weeks and-a-bit to go
Before the final day.
Yet her image is surrendered,
And her countdown has begun –
Though there’s precious little chance of snow,
Just a gen’ral lack of sun.
Yet the double doors are looming
As we open each one new –
And ev’ry day, another string of lights
Slips into view.
The month is slowly blooming
As the windows open wide –
And once they’ve all revealed their sights,
There’s nowhere left to hide.
Rhyming Couplets 