Holidays

It’s the day inbetween

When nothing much goes on

Thegifts have grown boring

The guests have all gone

Still no sign in the air

That there might be snow

Perhaps there’s another sale

To which you can go

But the house is a mess

With the uneaten cake

Still piles of mince pies

And leftover steak

Chocolate wrappers

With wrapping on the floor

And you wonder what caused

That scratch on the door

At least you’ve got work

To go to tomorrow

Though that is a thought

That also brings sorrow

Wouldn’t it be nicer

To have more bank holidays

When the days are much longer

With warming sun’s rays