Christmas

I remember my early days, being anxious as can be to see and open the presents from Mr. Claus.

The night is quiet, there isn't a sound.
In the depths of dark, lights can be found.
From the tree, they give off warm light,
On a Christmas Eve's cold and winter night.
The kids anxious as can be, struggle trying to rest.
For in the morning under the tree, their eyes full of such glee.
Parents watch with bliss, as they make such haste.
On this morning, time won't go to waste.