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.
Poem About Child Waiting For Santa
A falling sound in the chimney. Could it be Old St. Nick? Better pull my covers and go to sleep.
Listening For Santa
Published by Family Friend Poems December 2008 with permission of the Author.
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