Mom and Dad Christmas Eve
A warm fire, briskly burns,
in our fireplace surrounded by stockings
you can smell the scent of cinnamon as
heated apple cider, warms on the stove
A large, soft bearskin rug rests,
on the floor in front of the hearth
the expression on it's face, not a holiday smile
yet not angry enough to spoil the moment
The kids have long since gone to bed,
wondering, just what Santa will bring
while Mother and I sit quietly together
warmed by the fire and cider being sipped
The lights on the tree are twinkling,
in a multi - colored array of Reds, Blues and greens
that seem to make the garland shimmer
as it touched by a rainbow
Christmas music playing softly from a CD,
singers, singing of Chestnuts, Coming home
White Christmas and a Jolly old fellow
as Mother smiles, gently as she listens
I feel her hand, slip into mine,
as she looks at me with the love
we have shared for three Christmas' now
with the same sparkle in her eyes
As the fire dies down, we see that,
the time has slipped away, to early morn
we decide to curl up on the bearskin
and add another log to the fire
Wit anticipation that the kids,
would soon awaken us with the
wonderment of the day, Christmas Day
these thoughts as we drift off to slumber
When we awaken, we find to our surprise,
that the children, had awaken, come down
but instead of waking us, they curled up
next to us, and fell off back to sleep
We wake up, long after dawn, fire died
the smell of cinnamon, still clinging in the air
children are awake now, presents being opened
we realize, how joyful the season really is
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