Oh the joy upon your waking,
and he has been.
Such gifts he leaves, of life and love.
We are opened,
wrapped in loving arms.
Toys for their amusement,
battery fresh and ready for action, man.
A return of seasons adds evermore love to your collections,
and your affections,
never a division in loves vision.
And as we grow
we know of his ever dwindling presence.
And presents cease to be gifts,
but the love persists.
We indulge ourselves selfishly in our midday feast,
gorging and forging ahead to the seducing afters.
Her speech takes us by surprise,
forces us to make loves eyes.
We labour long for our gifts,
to bring joy to our flickering hearts.
Pushed into electric blue twilights,
you are the highlights.
Your gifts open for our hearts beating.
the night pushes further into its darkening,
and chapters have began their closing.
There are authors beneath us,
words they use infect with life,
defiantly we approach our midnight.
In the single stroke of a hand,
our Christmas is over.
Tomorrow you may box us,
but today will always be our gift.