It’s Christmas time the lights do shine,
In houses in our street.
I am bundled up in search for rhyme,
Because street, fleet, sheet, or sleet.

As I walk along to Christmas song;
In German song is Lied,
I wonder about the people
Who live along our street.

The old man in his red car,
Who really needs more luck,
And drives around the corners,
As if he is in a truck.

The people with a pack of dogs,
Who always look so happy,
The dogs are very tiny though,
And luckily not yappy.

Street, feet, eat, heat, sleet
The latter pelts my face.
Architecture on repeat,
This street is an odd little place.

What about the mathematician?
Deteriorating my rhymes condition!
Who calculates our lights’ algorithm,
Impossible they are an anachronism.

My rhymes begin to fall apart,
Although I am not yet loosing heart,
I tuck my scarf tight round my face,
And keep exploring our little place,
My steps begin to crunch on snow,
But only if I walk just like so.

There is the curious neighbour,
Who makes the curtains twitch.
And the really mean crusader,
Who makes my witch’s thumb itch.

There are a lot of little monsters,
Once a year to be seen,
But only if we respond,
To knocks on Halloween.

There is my garden hobby friend,
Who lives around the corner,
And gave me a pretty chilli plant,
Which has a place of honour.

The old man with the same name,
Gives the most beautiful Christmas cards,
I love to look at on my way hame,
They are light, blessings, and heart.

I’am running out of rhyme now,
If not out of street,
Have a very merry Christmas,
And do leastwise one good deed.