Last night I slept, soft fists curled tight,
Oblivious of frosty night,
I woke to creak of garden gate,
Raced eagerly to fireside grate,
Plundered hanging pillow case,
Tore bows and paper in my haste.
My gifts – doll babies, sugar paste.
Last night I slept around first light,
Pondering this frosty night,
I woke to creak of feet on stairs,
And listened for the paper tears,
The plunder of the Santa sack,
A tiny face in sea of wrap,
Their gifts, spilled out across the place,
My gifts – I pull to my embrace.