This cold Christmas Eve,
Heavenly scents of cinnamon buns,
Santa’s grotto has a long queue,
Wrapping up the gift,
By the Debenhams counter,
A smile and a “Merry Christmas.”
The Christmas Carousel goes round and round,
As people skate on the nearby Ice Rink.
Churchgoers make their way,
Down the street to attend Christmas mass.
The choir singing Christmas carols,
In the candlelit church.
Weary shoppers rest in the cafes,
Latte and an iPhone hand in hand,
Sending Christmas wishes to all,
Near and far on this cold Christmas Eve.
I reminisce about the times,
My Father brought us into town,
On a cold Christmas Eve,
Pocket money in our grasps,
Eyes wide with anticipation and excitement,
The festive lights so bright.
Simpler days of a childhood Christmas Eve,
I sit by the café window and raise a cup,
To the remembrance of my childhood past,
On this cold Christmas Eve.
Robin McNamara is a widely published poet from Ireland. His debut pamphlet, Under a Mind’s Staircase was published with Hedgehog Poetry Press (2021). Recently nominated for the Pushcart Prize for ‘Apple Picking Season’ from Under a Mind’s Staircase. His first full collection, Monochrome Heart is due to be published in 2022.