Anticipation Of Christmas Poem by Daniel P Martin

Calm descends like a blanket over the usual chaos,
As the children seize their final opportunity,
To make a good impression for the pending visitor,
Christmas Eve; a child’s last chance saloon.

The ritual mince pie is carefully placed,
With a delicate dusting of love and hope,
The carrot; the essential accompaniment,
A bribe to appease both man and carriage.

Bedtime; normally so fraught with stress,
On this one day, the routine runs like clockwork,
The children trying with every sinew to urge slumber,
Parents ‘wish it could be Christmas every day’!

And the magic is no disappointment to those waiting,
As the 2am rousing of the youngest child,
Is heralded with the immortal cry “He’s been… He’s been”!
The older sibling rolls over, hitting snooze on his excitement.

The sun, the tormentor of the youngest, finally emerges,
And the dressing-gown clad children descend,
The parents, snatching every last second of slumber,
Are awoken; and another Christmas is underway.