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Another time

• 'Twine'

Cold hands a warm embrace.

A row of cards above the fireplace.

This day will pass but not without a trace.

There's laughter and the glow of heady wine,

The heavenly scent of decorated pine.

And there with presents clutched

they fidget out of line with granny knots of

multi-coloured twine.

In each sleepy eye, there's innocence sublime,

And the magic of another Christmas time.

M O' Brien
Dalkey, Co Dublin

Irish Independent