The Visit


the stairs,
carefully avoiding the creaks,
we stop
and take each other’s hand.

At the bottom
we tiptoe,
towards the door.
Almost afraid to breathe
we slowly,
push it open.

Beneath the twinkling tree lights
sit the gifts.
‘He’s been,’ we whisper,
‘He’s been.’

About triciasimmons

Pat worked with primary age children for many years in out of school hours and museum settings. She is a writer of short stories, flash fiction, picture books and poetry. She also loves minibeasts! (Especially stick insects) You can find more about Pat at

2 responses »

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s