Listening For Santa

A squeak on the stairs.
Could Santa be here?
Better pull my blankets,
Up to my ears.

He comes down the chimney,
That’s how he gets in.
Santa uses magic,
To make himself thin.

I better keep still,
Can’t make a peep.
He doesn’t leave toys,
Unless you’re asleep.

My door just opened
Someone’s by my bed.
It wasn’t Santa after all,
Cause Mom just kissed my head.