Dangling baubles and chandeliers under scaffolding
That clads a building under the crane's renovation,
With a ring-a-ring of roses towards the altar
Adorned by the holy family that is not yet one
In the waiting game of an over-crowded town
Making the most of expectant visitors
Whose existence needs to be registered 
In a land occupied by the unwanted,
Waiting for someone who'll make life better
Yet rejecting the one bathed in frankincense 
Because he wasn't quite who we thought he was.

Bethlehem

November 2016