Merry Christmas, Tara - Poem by Herbert Nehrlich
The postie looked as if to say
another batch has found its way.
So many cards to just one place
it really is, I think a case
of working nights and then all day,
today though comes a special card,
a lass from Britain, (writing's smart)
dispatched a rather pretty one,
well Merry Christmas, gotta run.
The card was, as the postie had
with nosy eyes (they're going bad)
discovered, of good quality
and handsome writing I could see.
I opened it just when the spouse
came out, in aprons, from the house.
So, who is Tara, an old flame,
it seems I have not heard this name? !
To complicate and heat up matters
(the day was almost then in tatters)
sweet Tara had placed xxx
behind the name, so spouse smelled sex
and sniffed the air for perfumed scents
thank God the envelope had vents!
Most of some sweet, erotic fragrance
had dissipated like sly vagrants
through slots where Tara had not kissed
the glue and thus cold winds had hissed
so freely in and out in flight
so it smelled neutral which was right.
And then, my eagle eyes saw scribbles
that looked like peanut butter nibbles,
I pointed duly to the spot
and thus defused the heated plot.
Dear Tara, what a lovely touch
to make my day so bright, as such,
next time though, please include some more
I liked that fragrance, is it Dior?
And Merry Christmas to you, dear
a toast and lots of Season's Cheer.
The opinions expressed above are not necessarily representative of
the actual events. Sentiments, however, apply.
Hugs and Kisses are freely available.
Only the best for the best.
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