Logosmas hums amongst the streets, stockings
hang in mid-air. Filled with coal they dangle
brightly, their cheerful white-lettered stitchings

sing out names of Ashtani far and wide
from Deer Grove Road to the Merchant's Quarter,
Merentesh of Delos gathers his trade.

Croce Lane, bedecked with mistletoe, lets love,
if fleeting, flourish - shy glances give way
to passion
citizens live secret lives.
Holly berries burn the subdivision
crimson, whilst rats with draydel hats swiftly
dodge swipes of candy canes. Forlorn, alone,

a figure prowls Dockhand Square, Logosmas
trees glittering, yet still ignored, behind him.
The Ratman waits, with a face full of frowns,
and a sodden sack of chocolate sovereigns.

Penned by my hand on the 23rd of Sarapin, in the year 381 AF.