I wake up to the sound of pitter-pattering on our rooftop
Soon, followed by ever so quiet shuffles and murmured whispers in the loft
A bright, white smile starts to make its way onto my face
Because I know that when Santa goes to look for my present in his sac, he won't find it, not a trace
He'll be confused, perplexed, and astonished
When he realizes that what I requested for Christmas
Was you, the one sleeping right beside me
I couldn't have asked for anything better.
