Keep quiet. Silent. Listen to their breathing,
Will they wake happy, with their faces all daft?
Deep breaths, little snores, fast asleep, sleeping.

Clamber over a set of eight legs, careful no tripping
over. Soon they will see which fly is their gift.
Keep quiet. Silent. Listen to their breathing.

"Which is mine?"  they spent the evening asking.
"You'll just have to wait and see", I laughed.
Deep breaths, little snores, fast asleep, sleeping.

On the edge of the web, fill each stocking
to the brim. Got to be quick and got to be swift.
Keep quiet. Silent. Listen to their breathing.

Soon they'll rise and the house will be clicking
with their pincers and not one unwrapped present left.
Deep breaths, little snores, fast asleep, sleeping.

Finish the Santa duty, time to start relaxing
ready for the morning when tensions have halved.
Keep quiet. Silent. Listen to their breathing.
Deep breaths, little snores, fast asleep, sleeping.

Slowly saving
patiently waiting
email received transaction confirmed
item conceived, time contracted
a gift for one, many or all
a package surely to befall
a package arrives as the sun rises
it finally comes, joy
it fills us as we tear it apart "oh boy!"
help yourself, its ok to treat yourself
again save and order
await the presents that cross borders
happiness from innocent pleasures
isn't that a great treasure

i want to come home for the holidays.
forget the presents, forget the socks
and how many ornaments
have kissed the hardwood--
i need somebody to tell me
that staying in one piece is
overrated anyways.

i don't want to come home to
boisterous guests
pushing shoulders
and swallowing knives
as party tricks, no.
i don't want that.

instead, i'd like to come home
to a home for once.
brick and mortar,
selfishly cemented.
no gift wrapped apologies,
no socks, no guests,
just us.