Father Christmas is a good mate of mine.
We’ve known each other for so long
we cannot agree on who grew a beard first.
I do remember his
being a dark brown though. He was into Lumberjack
culture and, before his fascination with red velvet
dressing gowns, would strut around our flat
in thick checked shirts and undersized beanies.
We didn’t have a garden so he would chop broccoli
at the stem in the kitchen and yell TIMBEEER.
We laughed a lot together back then. We lived
off a diet of carrots with mince, and pints of milk.
We rarely talked about the future or ambitions,
our relationship was grounded in the present.

Carl Burkitt 2023