An enduring memory of my childhood Christmas's is the desire to stay awake in order to see Santa Claus (Father Christmas) bring me my hoped for presents.
I would listen eagerly for the sound of hooves as the reindeer clattered upon the roof. Think I could hear the sound of shuffling down the chimney and always without fail I would be asleep by midnight.
Waking on Christmas morning, an old grey navy kit bag, laying across my bed, often filled with bright and shiny packages.
This poem is my tribute to those treasured Christmas's.
To read Christmas Eve CLICK HERE!
I would listen eagerly for the sound of hooves as the reindeer clattered upon the roof. Think I could hear the sound of shuffling down the chimney and always without fail I would be asleep by midnight.
Waking on Christmas morning, an old grey navy kit bag, laying across my bed, often filled with bright and shiny packages.
This poem is my tribute to those treasured Christmas's.
To read Christmas Eve CLICK HERE!
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