My ghostwriter, Casper, just sent me this lovely verse to share.
BRRR! Outside its ten below
and the Furies rage with snow
yet I know 'tis time to go
for my ador'ed mistletoe.
Torrid kissing ne'er invoked,
shy, now, prince with velvet cloak,
tingling toes now shoes encloak;
gone the magic, now the yoke...
















Comments: 35
Neat poem!
Thanks, Curt.
We need the snow in Casper's poem to cool off our sizzling toes. Wow!