My children decorate the Christmas tree
The fire crackling,
shadows dancing, walls aglow
Their noses pressed to the window
Hoping to see Santa fly by
After a while, their eyes stream
Time for bed
Each tiny mouth quiet with sleep
Arms limp as I carry each one to bed
My head in a swim,
checking my list before the big day.
After I tuck the last
of my precious bundles under cover
I trim the tree, tidying earlier efforts
Making sure the last present is wrapped
Taking one last look at the room
Pleased with what I see
It would seem to be time for me
To put myself under cover until morning…
© anita dawes 2020
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