Dec 24, 1998

Eve

Not listening for prancing and pawing,
We are in no rush to sleep.
After the last-minute hustle and bustle,
There are still "things" to be done.
Showing hints of the fussing and fuming,
Our father makes his way to bed.
Knowing we will be watching and waiting
We hardly anticipate tomorrow.
Our shoulders shivering and shaking,
We bundle against the cold within.
Aware of our waxing and waning,
We try to put on our best face.
Waiting for giving and getting,
We are in no rush.
Eating our cookies and milk,
We play Santa for noone but ourselves.