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CHRISTMAS MORNWith eyes as wide as saucers They crept downstairs on Christmas morn Tip-toeing on the staircase Which wasn't quite the norm Usually a stampede of wildebeest Charging through the house Today, just in case Father Christmas was still there Each whispered like a mouse Rapturous screams when they saw the tree lit With the angel peering down They rushed to see the mountain of gifts Still wearing warming dressing gowns Each box was immaculately wrapped In a kaleidoscope of shiny foil They ever so tentatively opened them It seemed too good to spoil Ohh's and ahh's and thrilled dances round the room Faces brimming after a restless night It was worth all those weeks of trauma Just to see that wonderful sight! Poetry Ad-Free Upgrades Vote for this poem |
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