Christmas Night

A poem about the morning hours when you aren't yet allowed to open your presents.

A little friend awaits you there
Waiting shyly by the stair
Hopes that you’ll accept her flight
Given that it’s Christmas night

Taking that you’re guilty, too
She looks up with eyes of blue
And smiles small, shows rosy cheek
Ventures out, remaining meek

You have equal task at hand
Softly creep, and there you stand
Gazing long at vibrant glory
Taking in the loving story

Ribbons, gifts, and toys alight
You resist, lest parents might
Hear the noise, and scold you two
For peeking, sky still midnight blue

But you accept your tough restraint
To now begin a morning quaint
A hushed whisper passes there
To head back slowly for the stair

So you accept, excitement high
Ascend the stairs like they were sky
And know that, come the morning bright
You’ll feel the joy of Christmas night