Spying On Santa
I saw red reflecting off flakes of snow;
as I stared out my window on tiptoe.
And I'm pretty sure I saw Rudolph's nose:
though it could have been a plane, I suppose.
I couldn't see his sleigh amidst the shadows:
but I knew that Santa Claus always shows.
And then, I heard bells jiggling, and I froze:
I'm spying on Santa; what if he knows?
I flew across the room in my bedclothes:
and closing my eyes, I pretend to doze.
What happened next, I can't rightly disclose:
let's just say spying's best left to the pros.
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