The Nettl Christmas Carol

Dreaming beyond misted window, snow starts to fall
Reminiscing his first job, when he was ever so small

Mounting creeky delivery bike, bell a jingling
Breath frozen, little icy fingers a tingling

Up through the kissing gate, high on the hill
Pedalling and puffing in deep winter chill

Last drop for Ma Parker, third time this week
Door opens, slams, why doesn’t she ever speak?

Head droops low, lip quivers in fading light
He grasps a card, handwritten late last night

She hears letterbox swing, watches him leave
Opens the envelope, astonished to receive

It’s a heart-felt thanks for custom all year
“Oh…”, deep remorse, eye forming a tear

To the eve of Christmas our tale now goes
He’s climbing the hill, icicles biting his nose

But what’s this at Ma Parker’s, dusted in snow?
A parcel, his name tagged, he fumbles the bow

Frigid digits carefully peel back the wrap
A gift from her! Gloves, scarf and cap…

“Yikes!” vibrating phone abruptly breaks his gaze
Rudely transported back to present days

But that momentary flashback reminds him hence
Saying “thank you” just makes business sense

“Oh, hello Mrs Parker!” a smile forms as he says
“How’s my very best customer doing today?”