Brittany Woods and Noel
Thomas Hally
Icy winter morn drags an old man and his 80 year old date,
Two hearts beating so hard with hoarfrost not yet to abate.
Each soul lumbers through a soggy tree-sodden grove,
Without the warmth of a smile or a wood-burning stove.
As Jack Frost’s clime hovers at near-record lows,
This pair has hearts more frozen than hands, more than toes.
He is with Grisette, his French lover of bitter conviviality,
She is a woman ever clueless to her frigid conjugality.
For many Decembers they had been locally remote,
As he’d sip his cognac, she’d go shopping with bag in tote.
Expressing warm feelings for each other was really a load,
She’d stay in the bedroom and he on the coach, a sottish toad.
Ah, warm tears line cold faces calming stormy memories,
Some happy times affirmed by glowing present reveries.
Hearts uplifted again, Yuletide season soon to close,
A tired old duo treads snow-laden acorns and boughs.
Cold blizzard does not quiet spirits, high passion in tow,
Off to the cabin like teenagers they let themselves go.
Despicable airs of the past hold no sway at this moment,
Nay, not even a priest or a rabbi’s threat of eternal torment.
Gallic hearts are not frigid nor are their bodies,
Ay, the steam of hot breath enticed by hot toddies.
The denouement is quite near so be patient I beg,
While the old man gets excited, his hand up high on her leg.
