Poetry by Jeff Green


Warm Winter Nights

by cricketjeff on December 15, 2010.  © Jeff Green, All rights reserved

She was walking home one evening, down a sloping frosty street,
When she found the solid pavement wasn’t still beneath her feet.
First she suddenly got shorter, then her bum began to ache,
Thought her needle sharp stilettos may have been a sad mistake

When you think of fishnet stockings they are much more space than not
And that isn’t insulating when your seat is none too hot
Leather micro-skirts are sexy and a thong puts on a show
But thick jeans and passion killers can be warmer in the snow

Did she pick her coat for comfort or the sexy way it fits?
Doesn’t keep her nice and toasty but it shows her tempting tits!
Now she’s shivering and crawling she’s begun to understand
That a February night out could be somewhat better planned

In a battered old Land Rover he heads out for milk and bread
When the weather’s this inclement likes to see his neighbours fed
Sees a cold bedraggled stranger, so he offers her a lift
And although she knows the dangers she accepts the welcome gift.

They start talking as he’s driving through her chattering of teeth
And he’s see’s her skimpy clothing, and she’s less on underneath
They’ll be no-one home to greet her so he asks her to his house
(Are you starting to consider he may be a cunning louse?)

When he’s visited his neighbours, takes her home to have a bath,
Make the two of them a cuppa, dreaming of the aftermath.
When she’s warmed right to the cockles she decides to “come on down”
Dressed in thanks for all his kindness, and his “Hilton” dressing gown.

Through the window she discovers that the world’s unbroken white
So she blushes and she asks if she can stay there for the night
He’s polite, but not a dullard, she is young and blonde and cute.
He won’t push his luck this evening but some good deeds bear sweet fruit.

He’s a room made up for mummy, when she visits for a while
So he says that she can use it and she thanks him with a smile.
He’s not bad for such an oldie (must be forty five or so)
And the bath has left her happy and surrounded by a glow.

In the small hours of the morning she is kissing him goodnight
But he can’t go up without her, she is holding him too tight.
Why make two bedrooms untidy when to share is lots of fun
And they haven’t started sleeping when the morning brings the sun.

Now the date is ten months later, and it’s cold again outside
He’s out shopping for the neighbours, she’s gone with him for the ride.
Doesn’t need five inch seducers, nor a skirt that’s much too short
They’re still hanging in his bedroom, waiting for the evening’s sport!