I wake up,
And see presents underneath the small tree,
Piled up,
And they all are for me.
Wrapped in snowflake paper,
Waiting to be shown,
I rip it open,
To let the present be known.
I get wonderful things,
That I've always wanted,
I take them everywhere I go,
To let them be vaunted.
But I never guessed,
That what I had is what I need,
Because that's the meaning of christmas,
Being thankful for what I have - indeed.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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