Wet streets soak my shoes but sparkle
underneath the hanging lamps,
the golden globes that glitter white and bright and joy
and hang next to messages lit up between
buildings of stone which glow too,
reflecting thousands of little lights, so proud
next to the trees encased in green
halfway up the trunk so they look like glowing
broccoli stalks floating in
the air is crisp and cold
and mittens and scarves and waterproof hats and
it's beginning to feel a little bit festive
a little bit like Christmas
a little bit like