Dickens lamented the loss of Christmas,
The Christmas we would have known,
Of twelve days and many a feast,
In the old land owners home.
***
Now we are left with a gap,
Between the Christmas and New Year times
Where if we go and look back,
We'd have celebrated and wined and dined.
***
For the last 50 years or more,
We would have greeted people at our door,
Or sat with the TV guide,
And started at the haunted fish tank.
***
And now in the years of streaming,
We binge our favourite shows,
Clicking "Next episode" with gusto,
And "Yes" to the "are you there" between shows.
***
But what do all these times have in common?
We lose track of the time in between,
The bridge between Christmas and New Year,
Is a black hole of time it would seem.
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