Was It Santa
Was It Santa
I wrote a little Christmas poem on the way to work one morning. I had to keep repeating lines to myself as traffic was moving and I could not write and drive at the same time. I didn’t want to forget the words and for once, I was hoping for a red light. I finally got behind a school bus with flashing red lights and could jot down most of the lines. Here it is – my Christmas poem for all of you.
It’s my early morning habit to walk down my long drive
To get my morning paper while the world’s still not alive
But the early morning silence was shattered by the sound
Of leaves as they were scattered along the frozen ground.
Squinting through the darkness I thought I saw some moves
Reflecting off the moonlight was that antlers; were those hooves?
I know it’s late December and with Christmas almost here
Could that be dear old Santa and his pack of eight reindeer?
I never saw a red sleigh or spied a fat old elf
But I didn’t look that closely, I’d rather fool myself
And not go on believing that Santa’s just a myth
And its parents not old Santa that brought me Christmas gifts
For there’s a still a little boy inside me whose heart just skipped a beat
If it really was old Santa, wouldn’t that be neat!