It's freezing weather outside
I have my mittens held on tight
Cold walls beckon me home
My scarf wound up like a pome
I fumble for my keys
I battle with the beastly bees
I clamber up the stony steps
Eager for that cosy nest
I shed my winter wear
For more comfy wooly bears
I cuddle up on the sofa
But it feels so cold and rough
I spy the warmth from afar
Not tempted all at once
I'm wrapped in my soft housecoat
Not ready to rock the boat
I venture to that nasty den
That makes me cook all morn n even
A brilliant surprise awaits me
In the kettle is tea bubbling for me
It's warm as toast in here
With roast on a spear
There are aromas floating
N gastric juices flowing
I hate to admit this
But it is true, I'm not ravin
It's Christmas in my kitchen
As I sink in heavenly bliss
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
And what a kitchen this would be! To my list