after a few bottles o’ Tom
at the world’s end
I start talking
to Karen whose fingers
were freezing at first
& Pru
a friend o’ hers.
But it was Karen  - woollen  
pale
Australian -
who started
wanting my pockets  
in the mitre
who began teasing me
with are m’ hands cold? Are they?
as we steadied each other
on the slippery cobbles   close.
It was Karen
who started
whispering warmly
on a wheel
o’ ice groaning :
we kissed once in London
& almost there again
I replied:
I know!  was  Xmas Eve
Heathrow somewhere

a royal mile in the snow
was all it took to thaw   *I know!