An Aesthetic Christmas

Fair Lily lounges in the window seat
Oscar sips from a glass of chardonnay,
While Bosie pouts and stares down at his feet.
The lady of the house sits down to play.
She plays a concerto in dancing notes,
Evocative of love and long-lost friends;
Light-hearted staves flowing like anecdotes.
Outside the leaded window, snow descends.
Says Lily, tartly, "Lord, this snow is foul!"
La Bernhardt disagrees, "But it's divine!"
Young Bosie curves his lips into a scowl,
Too bored or introspective to opine.
Then Oscar says: "It's nothing, I declare,
But genie dust descending through the air."

© 2002 Sara L. Russell

                  Panto Time!

 Christmas is very close to Panto Time,
 When boys are girls and girls are boys withal,
 When stage managers weave their wanton rhyme,
 And Cinders really shall go to the ball.
 Come sing of mighty, strapping men in tights,
 With faces painted Widow Twankee style,
 Come raise the curtain on such stunning sights
 As bring pantomime-horse backsides to smile.
 Behold, in fifteen minutes I am on,
 To strut the boards in boots and velvet hose;
 The villain of the drama - and anon,
 "Look, IT'S BEHIND YOU" sounds, as tension grows.
 Young tubers laugh, I flee the scene of crime.
 Lock up your sheep, my friends, it's Panto Time!

Love and rockets,

© The Potato of Terror (P.O.T.), 2002