Chocolate Santa

For nearly a month now you've stood
silently overlooking
my desk,
with a crinkled smile
that never left your face.

You watched as I unearthed
stories of birth
and death,
slaved over
endless drafts of haibun and englyn,
and when they were done you seemed to nod
in mute appreciation,
giving me the non-critical approval
that I so craved.

For three months you stood on the shelf in Tesco
somehow surviving
the Christmas frenzy.

And then enduring the shame
of being marked down
ten per cent each week,
until the final humiliation:
‘Clearance!’ it said, in big dismissive letters
when they had no more use for you.

That's where I found you.
Or did you find me?

Did you think you would still be here,
past the New Year
approaching Easter,
long after the trees came down,
and the fairly lights were packed away,
finding a new life
as a reluctant muse?

A strange turn of fate it was
that brought us together.

You, chocolate santa; and me,
with nothing in common,
save an expiry date.