Warning: Before you continue reading, just remember, there’s a reason why I’m an author and not a poet.
Twas the night before the night before Christmas and all through the house, the breezes were stirring because it’s 67 degrees outside. (!?)
The presents were (half) wrapped and scattered through the dining room with care, in a frenzied attempt to finish them before Santa would be there.
The doggy was nestled all snug on in his blankey, while visions of sugar bones danced in his head.
And when he wasn’t snugged in his blankey, he was chasing a gingerbread man throughout the house. ^_-
Merry (early) Christmas!