Our cottage sits all snug and warm,
repelling any winter storm,
a crackling fire a pot of tea,
a cosy chair for you and me.
Old Christmas songs are playing low,
we sing along to those we know,
the cards are done the presents wrapped,
our pens at rest all strength is sapped.
We sit and watch each dancing spark,
that spits and cracks around the bark,
with toasted crumpet, hot mince pies,
a sweet contentment in your eyes.
Such bliss within our cottage small,
that keeps us safe from winter squall,
no need for talk, a sleepy smile,
our heads will nod in just a while.
(For Suz)
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