Auld Lang Sighs

It doesn’t happen everyday Through perilous weather, flies Santa’s sleigh Reflecting in the Winter sun Are its legs, in gunmetal grey Yet as Christmas Eve turns to Morning Falling behind red-silk and cotton Among the frost One’s mind is lost And all else is forgotten The children play with what was brought Without as much as a second thought From where these marvellous gifts came Or in the manner how they were wrought To gratitude, they must adhere In the closing of the year Unaware that these times are austere And each of their new toys, hold near While countless harsh weeks lie ahead A return to school, many will dread And memories, so bittersweet Will be recalled instead They say that what goes up, must come down Such includes the crib and tree The wrapping and its debris Whilst wearing a cap and gown This cold new year evokes a frown