This is from my second book of poetry. Merry Christmas to all and to all a wonderful 2021!
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They say there was no inn
Where baby Jesus slept that night
And probably no manger
Where animals mewed and flies alit.
They say we don't know the number
Of wise men who came to pray.
And they arrived not at that time
But weeks or months away.
They say Herold (that tictorn monster)
Killed not all the first born boys
But his generals, his family, his enemies
So he might live on for future joys.
They say He was born in summertime
And not in one B.C.
I suspect if given time
They'd say his midwife - a Pharisee.
But tell me "they" of precise mind
is a tree less wondrous
If every leaf would switch its place?
And would your soulmate be less beautiful
If the freckles migrated round her face?