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Christmas
October 1, 2014
You run downstairs,
full of joy,
awaiting something magical.
You look and see,
and you succeed,
a place bleeding with presents.
You run upstairs,
to wake the parents,
They scream and yell,
“why’d you wake me”,
but you're not scared,
for there are presents awaiting.
You all go downstairs,
in single pairs,
too full of excitement to care about each others hair.
Under the tree awaiting your glee,
are the magical things you receive.
You rip, you tear,
you just can’t bear,
to glare at the square present box you're about to open.
© Torey B., McLean, VA
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