There's a blizzard outside
Home alone
After dark cuddled in a blanket
On her luxurious chair with room for two

Hot chocolate with liberal brandy and marshmallows cupped in her hands
Book of the story of Layla and Qays on her lap
The hot drink lulling her and awakening her in equal measure

The velvet chocolate heat and the hit of the brandy making her feel
all marshmallowy soft with liquid heat radiating from top to toe

The tragic romance of layla and Qays floating in her brain starts her
wondering why she is alone here.
Not wrapped in a lovers arms warmed by his body with
the flames of the fire dancing on their shadows as they
explore what they had been gifted in their meeting.

Layla and Qays were separated by family and society
in different times to hers , ancient taboos and family power
decided relationships in their world and when their love was
thwarted they lived their individual miseries ever after.

But why was she alone, no tragic story of unrequited love,
deaths, family expectations.

Was she too fussy, too difficult too insecure,
too much baggage, too little something, too much maybe.
Has she painted herself a picture of her ideal man
one who doesn't exist, handsome, strong sexy,
intelligent sensitive, caring, a poet a lover a superhero
the best bits of all she has ever known an ideal
no man could live up to while all she is offering
is her totally perfectly imperfect self

The brandy is warming her body and her requirements in her man
are slipping away one by one as she watches
the dying embers throw up one last flame
She has cut her male companions required attributes
down considerably as she muses on why she is really here alone,
All she really wants is a guy who is romantic, definitely poetic,
caring and well spoken and can tolerate and come to love
all her perfect imperfections.
Maybe the next blizzard she won't be sitting here alone
reading tragic love stories, She will be writing hers in the shadows of the dancing flames.
One can dream, another shot she falls asleep and finds her man.