Waiting For Christmas.

(Note:  I advise explaining the meaning of the word “undulate”: to move like a wave, before reading to a child.)

 

The cool of winter blows past my window,

The trees stand like pillared shadows,

The sun sinks early after school,

Soon it will be Christmas.

My sister and I run to the frosted bus stop,

Where iced leaves glint bronze and silver,

Then onto the bus and to the zoo.

We wait until the keepers drive home,

Then clamber over the wrought iron entrance

And slide open the enclosure gate.

 

With a clang we enter and using mum’s washing line

Gather a camel and lead him out.

He comes, high and haughty,

Plod- plodding  behind us.

We climb back over the gates,

Camel steps over like a graceful hurdler.

 

We are like a caravan train of ancient times,

Connected by mum’s washing line.

 

At the bus stop Camel snorts and fidgets,

His hairy chin bristles against my head,

His teeth are yellow,

(I must give them a good brush.)

On the bus he sits at the bottom step

And puts his neck up the stairs,

Stretching he can nearly see the boys playing on the top deck.

 

We alight at Southport beach,

And ride Camel under the moon and stars,

Camel feels the sand between his toes,

Rhythmically undulates along the beach,

The dunes are like humps of camels past remembered,

This is where he knows he should be.

 

We are like a caravan train of ancient times,

Connected by mum’s washing line.

 

Dawn draws back her pink mattress,

Revealing the sun,

Who warms the beach at Blackpool,

Whilst we wait for the donkeys to arrive,

Slowly clip -clopping to the beach.

My sister buys a donkey ride and sets off to the pier,

But no turning back,

She and the donkey carry on.

No-one notices the little girl on the donkey coming to meet Camel and me.

 

The Camel undulates, Donkey clip clops,

We are like a caravan train of ancient times,

Connected by mum’s washing line.

 

We make our way inland,

Over the paths and muddy fields,

Where sheep tend their lambs,

With tight, curly fleeces and inquisitive noses.

Ewe gave me her lamb, nudged him over and then followed,

This was too exciting for her to miss!

We went, Camel, Donkey, Ewe, Lamb, sister and I

Back down the farm track.

The donkey clip clopped

And brayed at the fresh, damp dew- clung grass,

Ears and eyes bright, tail swishing,

Donkey loved the farm.

 

The Camel undulates, Donkey clip-clops, Ewe and Lamb gamble along,

We are like a caravan train of ancient times,

Connected by mum’s washing line.

 

We got home at tea-time and placed some hay in the back yard.

Camel peers through our bedroom window as we peer out.

As the sky dims we can see the bright neon cross

Of the church down the road.

The stars appear,

Only a short time now ‘til Christmas.

 

The Camel undulates, Donkey clip-clops, Ewe and Lamb gambol along,

We are like a caravan train of ancient times,

Connected by mum’s washing line.

 

Now we wait patiently for the baby.

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( P.S. if any one wants to read this to a child I have the other 3 pics Grace has done for me so  please let me know and I will email them to you provided they are not used for commercial use.)