“When hell freezes over!”
My dearly beloved intoned,
Nullifying my request for a hot buttered cinnamon roll.
When hell freezes over?
Not an unpleasant thought,
Not at all.
Free from matrimonial bonds
In the stygian realm of human weakness,
Bundled up against the sudden change of climate,
Sipping hot chocolate
While the scent of warm cinnamon
Drifts lazily into my nostrils
From the buffet table of fresh-baked pastries.
O yes, when hell freezes over.
Now there’s something to look forward to.
~ Russ Allison Loar
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