As I gaze across the room at my prickly pine,
all the pretty packages wrapped with twine,
And the illuminated globes of color that shine,
I can imagine with such clarity the words they'll whine...
Has Santa come, is it time?
Why did he get that, it should be mine?
Although this is not how Christmas is defined,
To a mother these moments are truly divine.
~SS
12/14/17
- Author: SunSearcher ( Offline)
- Published: December 14th, 2017 07:25
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 11
Comments1
I like this , your choice of words the rhyming and the flow . It works well 🙂
Thank you so much yellowrose!
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.