T'was the night before Christmas,
she walked on the wet street all alone.
Suddenly she heard footsteps,
following her trail home.
She was too afraid to turn
or give a trajectory look.
She knew the street well,
every corner, every nook.
She knew she was foolish
to be out so late at night.
But t'was the night before Christmas,
it surely seemed right.
She asked God for help
to save her from this lout
who'd followed her continuously
he knew her every route.
She felt enough was enough
she couldn't take the suspense any more,
she was ready to face the consequences,
ready for this brute, this boor.
But when she turned around,
to her good fortune, she did see
a young man carrying her shopping bags
waving at her frantically.
He walked up to her panting
saying " you left this at the mall,
I've been shouting out to you,
but with the iPod earphones,
you didn't hear me call."
But she had had heard footsteps
following her down the street.
She then realised it wasn't the footsteps,
but the music of Michael Jackson with a mix of her heartbeat.
She took her bags and thanked him profusely
with her ever most gracious smile.
T'is one Christmas eve she won't forget,
surely, for a long, long while.
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