SANTA CLAUS LOST

The magic of a gift-skirted tree
the lights blinking
contrapuntally
gifts pop up
alleged from some
sparkling-eyed guy
dwelling well far north of thee.

Years go by. . .
you grow. . .
you conjure plans
to try
the reality of this man
all the while wishing though,
that against your logic,
and good facts,
he might somehow still yet be true. . .

Much, much later–
then, when baby makes two
or three
or more
and Santa Claus is you–
until yours
hit their own
age of discovery
and bring their minds to bear
on smoking out the truth,
thus risking Christmas reverie,
you sigh. . .
and an internal tear comes up–
what’s happened to my baby?

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3 Responses to SANTA CLAUS LOST

  1. sad to lost someone we can count on.

    blessings.
    a well done piece.

  2. Another wonderful poem, you have a gift for writing.
    “and Santa Claus is you–”
    Is a great shift from childhood to adulthood

  3. Poets Rally says:

    This is brilliant.

    join us today, have fun!

    😉

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