The stockings are hung by the chimney with care. (Along with some fights on whose sock goes where.)
The presents are wrapped, all snug near the tree. It's possible that I even put one down there for me.
The decorations (though scant) have been placed out with care. So far I'm not manic, they might last out the year.
The flower has bloomed, no thanks to my man. He fed it Coke Zero, then quickly he ran.
The plastic nativity changes each day. Sometimes poor Jesus goes very astray.
The good one sits untouched, as per mother's orders. If someone goes touching, they'll be sent 'cross the border.
If only you'd hurry to us, Christmas dear.
We're waiting most anxious for you to be here.