Stockings...

Sleeping above the fireplace,
Waiting to be filled,
Anxious to see what Santa's bought,
Soon, happiness will be spilled.

Tickled by the heat of flames,
Amber. Rose. Yellow and red,
Upstairs, anticipation is silenced,
As the children are tucked up in bed.

Staring at the tinsel-clock,
Waiting for morning to rise,
Now flooded with presents,
Time for the children to claim their prize.

The clock chimes seven times,
And the kids enter the room,
The stockings are torn off the wall,
They'll be empty again soon...