There’s a tear in the air,
Which is so cold this time of year
That it freezes, falls, and shatters
With each uttered word that flatters
An unassuming ear.

Oh, are they burning, dear?
That must mean your wedding is near;
Let’s hang mistletoe up and choke
On all the back drafted wood smoke:
Eat mince pies and drink beer,

While outside the shore snores.
Akin to the hinges of doors,
The lake creaks, ablush with sleep,
And sheep bleat, because they’re just sheep.
We are untouched by laws

And watching you lie there
On that tumble-dried underwear,
Rolling in its godly glow,
I’m trying not to let is show,
As snow melts in your hair,

That I’d wish the world slow:
That I’d wish each fake flake of snow
That wets itself at warmth would stay,
Your frozen face to greet each day:
That we never passed ‘Go’.