Butterflies in my stomach fluttered
as I fidgeted in my silky, periwinkle sleeping bag.
Sweet cinnamon candles flooded the dim room
with a mouthwatering aroma
and mixed in with the fresh scent of pine needles.

Soft snores from tiny mouths
echoed throughout the grand den.
The continuous rhythm
of the ticking clock
drowned out the icy wind
that rattled the vast windows
where the reflection of the glimmering blanket
on the moist mushy ground
radiated onto our faces.

Crystal bulbs of all colors sparkled
as if they were winking at me.
A fragrance of fresh baked sugar cookies
drifted pass me,
encouraging the giddiness
that battled with my dreary eyes.

A pile of letters rested
by the plate of sweets,
well written in scribbles and art.
Unknown boxes were wrapped
in shiny material,
with towering ruby bows.

My eyes were heavy,
slowing fading under my lids.
But, I fought the exhaustion
that tried to steal my hope
of hearing the knocking of hooves
and the chime of golden instruments
that would eventually land
on the rickety rooftop.

The cloud
under my rosy cheek softened,
and the toasty air
wrapped me in a sheet of comfort
as I unwillingly drifted off into
an eve of Christmas dreams.