This is a poem that I wrote on Christmas Eve written from the perspective of a child waiting for Christmas.
You await in your bedroom
The lights slightly on
You keep yourself up
Til the day's totally gone
In only hours you'll find
Presents that you've earned
Delivered by a man who
Ate the cookies you've burned
You asked for jump ropes
You asked for toys
You asked for sweaters
And a kiss from a boy
But sadly there still is this thing
Called your parents no less
Who wait until seven
To even get dressed
Oh no's what you thought
When you heard this bad news
You just couldn't help it
So you sang the blues
That time expansion
Creates two more hours
You try to bribe your parents
And you bring them flowers
But that does no good
So you go back to your room
You feel as though you
Are to wait until June
As you sit in your bed
You hear a slight knock
It must have been the clock
When it went tick-tock
Though you pause for moment
When you hear another
It might an ostrich
Or maybe your mother
You creep down the stairwell
To see what you've heard
And seen with your eyes
It was not a bird
You blink once, then twice
And see a red beast
Sitting down at your table
Eating up a cookie feast
No, it's not a ghost
A monster or phantom
To my amazement
It was the great Santa
You don't dare to speak
To this giant old man
But inside you know
That you are his fan
Now you know what to do
So you pick up your feet
And head straight back to bed
So your head, can sleep
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