Santa Claus

The tree the only source of light,
As the children are tucked up for the night,
Or so the tired parents thing,
As they creep out of bed with a sly little wink.
The kids move quietly down the stairs,
Keeping close, taking care,
From the bannister, downstairs they peer,
Straining their eyes when they suddenly hear...
The clump of somthing heavy on the floor,
A shuffle, a trip, and then some more.
They glance at each other in pure delight,
Eyes glowing bright in the dark of the night.
They creep to the landing and peek round the door,
And there was the man of legend and lore,
Dressed in his suit as red as cherries,
Was the maker of magic, the man who is merry.
He turned to them, his eyes a-shine,
Pointing to presents, for each of them nine.
With a quick hug he sent them to bed,
To open the presents in the morning isntead.
They waved goodbye and blew a kiss
As they headed upstairs they knew they would miss
Santa Claus, the jolly red man,
And hoped to see him again, as they ran
Back to bed and snuggled up tight,
To await the first morning light,
And spring from the bed with pure delight,
With no memory of the previous night.