On Christmas morning I wake to see
Lots of presents beneath the tree.
Down the stairs I hop, then run.
Opening gifts is oh such fun!
Mom says, “Slow down a bit.”
On the carpet I quickly sit.
Hands wrapped around my knees.
I beg, I plead, “Please, Mom, please!”
“OK, Zorah. Open your gifts.”
“But, first, a mistletoe kiss.” [Zorah gives mom a kiss.]
I pick presents marked with my name.
And guess what’s inside, just like a game.
A stove from Santa. I can bake!
What yummy treats will I make?
Mommy gives me a coat and hat.
And matching gloves go with that.
Daddy gives me a pair of boots.
And a choo-choo train that shouts, “Toot! Toot!”
Brother gives me drums to beat.
I’ll play with my hands, dance with my feet.
Nana gives me fancy clothes.
And, for my pigtails, pretty bows.
Uncle and Auntie give me a puzzle.
And a squishy bunny I can nuzzle.
Which is my favorite gift of all?
Is it big, or is it small?
I look at them all but cannot choose.
Which will I pick? Whose? Whose?
Train, bunny, stove, drum set.
I cannot decide yet.
Coat, hat, clothes, bows.
I can’t choose among those.
I glance at the wall and start to grin.
There it is … there … where it’s always been.
[Note to illustrator: Family photo on the wall of everyone who’s in the room.]
I see my family surrounding me.
Smiling, laughing, filled with glee.
They’re a gift to me every day.
“You’re what I love most!” I say.