A Dream On Christmas Eve
A Dream On Christmas Eve
The quilted blanket wraps me in warmth,
Beside the small rickety heater upon my nightstand.
Within moments, my eyes close,
After turning from the red winter jacket on my door.
A cry—
Who could be out on this rough winter night?
I shoot out of bed, but where is the small, rickety heater,
Which used to sit on my nightstand?
A shiver escapes me. It’s cold—
So I slip on my soft red slippers,
Seeking a bit of comfort.
I trudge to the door, now cracked wider than before.
I step out, but my living room isn’t in sight—
What a fright to see snow stretching everywhere.
A sleeping arctic wolf replaces the hatstand,
My Christmas tree is now a snowy, white marvel.
I turn around, my door is gone,
My house is nowhere to be found.
But in the distance, I see a log cabin, glowing warm
Beneath the large, white tree.
A shelter from the cold.
I run, following footsteps in the snow,
Looking back to see a sparkle, a mysterious glow,
Left behind by the footsteps.
I step inside,
Endlessly thanking the unseen occupant.
“It’s so cold out there!”
“Thank you kindly.” I cry.
But there’s no one in sight.
Suddenly, a series of pounding and huffs,
Echo from the roof above.
Who could be up there?
It’s cold, far too cold,
But I’ll thank them when they come down.
The room lights up with glowing colors—
A living room decorated to perfection.
The Christmas tree begins to shake,
Who could that be?
A groan comes from the chimney next to me.
Why would someone come down from there?
A merry “Ho, Ho, Ho!” booms from the bricks.
With a thud, a large red bag,
Tied with a gold knot,
Hits the floor with a resounding crash.
I blink, and the once-empty tree,
Is now towering with gifts of all sorts.
Who else could do such magic,
But good ol’ St. Nick?
I notice a red winter jacket too—
It looks familiar.
I grab my red winter jacket,
From beneath the tree skirt.
Suddenly, it’s cold again.
I slip on my jacket–it wraps me in warmth.
A blink—and now I’m back in bed.
Where did the log cabin go?
I throw off my blanket,
Was it all just a dream?
I open the door to find a living room,
Just as it always was.
The Winter Wonderland, the log cabin,
Santa’s “Ho, Ho, Ho”—all gone.
But I look up and see a singular snowflake,
Floating down from the chimney,
Slowly melting,
Until it disappears.
The Christmas tree is no longer empty—
Now filled with beautifully wrapped gifts,
And a note nestled among them:
Love, St. Nick.
I run to the window,
It’s not snowing.
The blue sky above is free of Jack-Frost’s fury.
Of course—no snow had come for years.
I began to walk to the lounge,
But stop, hearing something once more.
I smile at hearing,
Not seeing, St. Nick’s voice,
Cry out,
“HO, HO, HO. Merry Christmas to you all.”
