Poetry

Eve (#1232)

It’s Christmas Eve,
Santa’s getting ready to leave,
We pour the milk and put the cookies on the plate,
We tell our son he can’t stay up and wait,
Thoughts of presents and Santa dance in his head,
As we shoo him off to his waiting bed,
We tuck him in for the remainder of the night,
And pick up the house for our visitor coming tonight,
When all is done, and we’ve hit our mark,
We turn the house still and dark,
We head to bed with the hope that he’ll show,
And leave him a beacon of Christmas tree glow.

Any Thoughts?

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