Christmas Morning
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.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
