Men see me now 

as a nine year old boy:

gangly, flat and sinewy;

advances have evaded me

for several anniversaries

but beneath the Christmas Tree

Father Christmas and an elf

each made feelings clear to me;

now I wonder if I can

be a woman with a man,

should the elf and fantasist

ask again, if they persist,

once the mulled wine’s  

dulled and pained,

reigned in past regrets.

Christmas comes but once a year

fuelling men with brandied cheer.

Might they see, again, a boy

after this brief season’s joy?

One thought on “Elf

  1. Though I am a plumpish sort for your poem, Cherry, I too am wondering the same sorts of things to myself (I’m 64 last birthday). I say let’s all enjoy what we can while we can, Father Christmas take tthe hindmost! Have great holidays.

    Liked by 1 person

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