Christmas Morning

Written by: Heather Ober

Sting of cold tiles against tiny toes -
Hop, shiver, skip! Down the stairs she goes 
With that misplaced halo 
Of snow-blonde hair 
And a chest full of glee.  
She almost forgets 
Not to land on the third step - 
The one that always creaks 
(And makes it so hard to sneak
Through the dark, quiet house). 
On chilled tip-toes, she creeps.
Around the corner, she peeks,
Spying magical things.
The tree glitters and glimmers
Above full stockings 
And gift-wrapped miracles.
She stares with wide eyes 
Until the sun stirs in the sky.   
Her mother finds her asleep
Beneath the Christmas tree.