‘Twas the Night Before Christmas – 2019

This will be the 10th straight year I post my rendition of a classic holiday poem. It’s my MuseTracks tradition. The only variation is the fantasy Santa. A girl can dream…oh, can she dream…

‘Twas The Night Before Christmas

‘Twas the night before Christmas,
When all through the house
Not a creature was stirring,
Not even my wireless mouse;

The laptop glowed blank
With all creativity kaput,
My Muse took a holiday
From inspiring my book;


The NaNo craze had ended
I’m in edits neck-deep,
While visions of “the end”
Dance out of reach;

Exhausted from writer’s block,
And with my satin sleep mask,
I had just curled into bed
For a long winter’s nap;

When out on the street
There arose such a thunder,
I sprang from my bed
To see what was the rumble.

Away to the window
In fuzzy slippers I sprang,
I stumbled and tripped
And drew back the drape.

The vapor lamps casting pools
Of pale light on the street
Gave the luster of mystery
To objects beneath,

When what to my wondering eyes
Caught my sight,
But a red ragtop muscle car,
And eight Harley bikes,

With a super hot driver
And smirk sinfully salty
I knew in a moment
It must be Tom Hardy.


More handsome in person
His buds they came,
And I whistled and squealed
As he called them by name.

“Now Cavill! Now Reynolds!
Now Momoa and Tatum!
On Heughan! On Hemsworth!
On Franco and Beckham!

To the edge of the curb!
To the end of the way!
Now pull over! Pull over!
Pull over here, I say!”


As the growl of engines
Revved and roared,
Testosterone oozed
From their very cores;

So up to my house
The hotties they drove,
With Tom Hardy in the lead
Of this tasty treasure trove.

And then in an instant,
I heard them out front,
The back-slapping and laughing
Of each manly hunk.

As I wiped the drool
And raced to the den,
In sauntered Tom
Truly a perfect Ten.


He was dressed all in leather
From his head to his boots
Just like in his films
He was lip-smacking good.

A bundle of goodies
He’d flung on his shoulder,
And with his smooth swagger
He simmered and smoldered.

His eyes—how they seared!
His lips, how inviting!
His jawline so strong,
His smirk too enticing!

His russet goatee
Was trimmed just right
And his dark tousled hair
Gilded in the firelight;


The end of a toothpick
He held tight in his teeth,
And he took off his jacket
And rolled up his sleeves;

Leather wristbands and tattoos,
And sculpted firm rear,
Completing the package
All but brought me to tears.

He was lean and fit,
A right sexy heart-breaker,
And I fanned my face,
A coveting stargazer.

A wink of his eye
And I nearly swooned,
Naughty or nice?
My thoughts lampooned;

He spoke not a word
But went straight to his work,
And left festive presents
As I giggled and lurked,


And smiling at me
My Muse had more than awaken,
And giving a nod,
Tom left me a-quaking.

He hopped in his convertible,
Gave a whistle to his team,
And away they all drove,
Leaving me to dream.

But I heard him exclaim
Ere he drove out of sight,
“Happy Christmas Writing to all.
And to all a good night.”

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