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.