Monday, February 05, 2007


(This work is a result of a monthly assignment where members were asked to write a short piece using the word "Christmas".)

I was five when we moved to the farm after the war.

How would Santa know we’d moved? Would he find me in the country?

My parents told me not to worry, he knows where every boy and girl lives.

How does Santa travel in the bush? We didn’t have a proper road at that time.

Don’t worry, he has a horse and cart like the rabbiter.

Christmas morning. A pillowcaseful of goodies.

The hay and oats had gone, and Yes! There were tracks in the gravel drive.

Next year there was a thunderstorm on Christmas eve.

Jan Lowing
Writers’ Group, Clifton.


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