Poetry Sunday

One of the old Christmas traditions, not so much observed any more in the age of Me Too, is the kiss stolen under the mistletoe at Christmas. Granted, it was a tradition that easily lent itself to abuse, but I miss it nevertheless. This poem by Walter de la Mare gently reminds us of times gone by.

Mistletoe

by Walter de la Mare

Sitting under the mistletoe
(Pale-green, fairy mistletoe),
One last candle burning low,
All the sleepy dancers gone,
Just one candle burning on,
Shadows lurking everywhere:
Some one came, and kissed me there.

Tired I was; my head would go
Nodding under the mistletoe
(Pale-green, fairy mistletoe),
No footsteps came, no voice, but only,
Just as I sat there, sleepy, lonely,
Stooped in the still and shadowy air
Lips unseen—and kissed me there.

Have a good day, enjoy the rest of your last weekend before Christmas, and don't abuse the mistletoe privilege.

More thoughts coming.

Bilbo