To have a lovely puzzle,
To jig between the brows,
To saw the feed of flames to justly sate:
The fire of quiet minds - what lovely thing.

When claiming to be functional,
You turn to me inscrutable,
A curiosity drawing out a marvel,
Enigmatic though a joy unravelled.

Head heavy,
Lead up from the bridge of my nose,
Bed creaking out for repose - so I
Tread on the surface of sleepfullness.

Around the glowing tree we sit,
Smiling, laughing, celebrating,
As the fire's warm and lit,
We slouch and stand,
Merry and comfortable,
Enjoying the company,
And the time so wonderful.