Poems by Ann D. Stevenson

Christmas here once more,
hard to ignore, festive
wreaths on every door.

Housed inside is needled
pine, bright baubles shine
with tiny twinkling lights.

Trees glow, festive music
flows, lifts up hearts, baking
starts, excitement grows.

Little sticky fingers help frost
white icing on the cake, set mini
figures among the snowy peaks.

Traditional food abounds,
turkey with all its trimmings,
a flame-lit Christmas pudding.

Snaps of bursting crackers,
scattered paper hats and jokes,
sounds of popping corks.

Glasses brimmed with bubbles
of good cheer - that's how it is
for some - at this time of year.

My beloved canine friend
life's not how it used to be
you no longer hear my whistle
and just keep on running free.

I wave my arms and signal
but you cannot always see
or is it just that you prefer
to please yourself not me.

Your coat's a little shabby
I think you've lost some hair
but with a little grooming
your looks remain quite fair.

Your sense of smell is good
and so is your sense of taste
you sniff out food anywhere
which has increased your waist.

Your bones are not so supple
you struggle with some steps
but when barking at a stranger
you still show lots of pep

As I look into your eyes
which have grown slightly dim
I see the same young puppy
still nestled deep within

You remind me of somebody
I wonder, who can it be
I have a sneaking feeling
that it might in fact be me.

There's a hum from the bees in the air
which stirs up gentle musings in my mind,
scented blossom is making me aware
of certain hidden treasure they may find.

There's a stir in the branches of the trees
it reflects quiet awakenings of my own,
leaves unfurl in a warm and gentle breeze
they stretch out until they become full-blown.

There's music in the garden from the birds,
cheerful sounds that make my spirits glow,
is this a calling that the flowers have heard
a time to bloom, to blossom and to grow.

There's joy in new beginnings, a fresh start,
it grows deep inside and lifts up my heart.

Homely aromas
of freshly baked bread.
Scents of the garden
infused in my head.

Wiffs of the sea
whilst walking the beach.
Sniffs of freshness
from an apple or peach.

The essence of a baby
breathed in from its skin.
And my love, ah my love,
I love breathing you in.