Poem that “does what it says on the tin” re subject matter.

Christmas 1918, haphazard celebrations,

Newspaper party hats, ragged old tree

Festooned with baubles, tinsel, bells, trinkets.

Looks of relief, joy, bemusement, exhaustion -

Bowler hatted City gents, well-to-do-ladies,

Middle-class suited and booted managers

Mixing with office juniors; pub landlady

Raising a pint glass. Cigarette and pipe

Smoke filling the smoggy London air.

In contrast, subdued scenes at parish church

Hall, thick overcoats and scarves repelling

The winter chill. Sermon delivered to a mixed

Reception of polite anticipation and blank

Indifference, from the ageing, stern congregation.

Hope for the future mixed with sadness at the

Sacrifice of war and uncertainty of peace.

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