Under the cover of darkness

The annual trek has begun,

Sent out by my wife because,

She says delivering cards is not fun.


Off I go into the night conspicuously

With my hat shielding my face,

Like a demon of the night I deliver

These Christmas cards at a rapid pace.


But not to be fooled by nosy neighbours

Who welcome me in for a festive drink,

One after another like a pub crawl

my head spins and I begin to think.


As I return home to find many cards I didn’t get

Because our super fast neighbours sent them on the internet.



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