There’s a pocahontas on my table. It has red leaves and breathes the yuletide spirit. I’ve put it in the cream and gold pot that was a birthday present from the person who can’t pronounce poinsettia.
On my long-suffering frangipani, I’ve hung a delicately latticed white candle-holder that I once found under a Christmas tree with my name on it.
The carols in the supermarket inspired me to buy fruitcake, and now there are two in the house.
2 comments:
Let's hope that the right cake is eaten and that the other one doesn't go stale!
Ha ha ha, nzm, it might be too late already!
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