Arctic, Hands Poem by Mark Heathcote

Arctic hands don't make me shiver; don't -make me cold.
You're not the North Pole, sweetheart. Look at me.
Sweetheart, you're not the snow queen of my heart.
My hands are warm; let me help you to live.
Arctic, hands don't make me shiver after the storm.
Send -me a warm winter's wink.
Sweetheart, you're not the snow queen of my heart.
I must be going snowblind
but I can still carry you home, well maybe I think.