|
| |
My Granddad's Father Christmas
My Granddad's Father Christmas
My granddad’s Father Christmas.
I’ve known since, as a waif,
I heard his Father Christmas voice
That deep and rumbling friendly noise.
It kept me warm and safe.
My granddad’s Father Christmas.
He’s big and soft and loving.
And when I’m sad – a bit upset
His silly jokes make me forget,
Then I’m afraid of nothing.
My granddad’s Father Christmas.
The beard gives it away.
It covers up his face by half
But cannot hide that booming laugh
That resonates all day.
My granddad’s Father Christmas.
When he comes round it’s funny.
His tricks and rhymes and gifts are magic
(Although his singing’s rather tragic)
He turns a dull day sunny.
My granddad’s Father Christmas.
Though what do people see?
An ageing man with bulging gut.
To you he’s nothing special but
He’s Santa Claus to me.
Copyright ©
Brian K. Bilverstone
|
|