Christmas Eve by Bill Watterson
On window panes, the icy frost
Leaves feathered patterns, crissed & crossed,
But in our house the christmas tree
Is decorated festively
With tiny dots of colored light
That cozy up this winter night.Christmas songs, familiar, slow,
Play softly on the radio.
Pops and hisses from the fire
whistle with the bells and choir.
My tiger is now fast asleep
on his back and dreaming deep.
When the fire makes him hot,
he turns to warm whatever’s not.
Propped against him on the rug,
I give my friend a gently hug.
Tomorrow’s what I’m waiting for,
But I can wait a little more
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