One, two, three gifts from Santa
Neatly wrapped under a tree
One, two, three smiling faces
As they tore open their gifts
Marvelling at new toys
And from a distance Santa peers
Hiding beneath the daily news
His red cloak gone, replaced
By a worn business suit,
His bushy beard shaven,
His stomach shrunken flat
Santa in plain sight yet their eyes
A child's innocent eyes
Never meet his
A hundred, two hundred,
Three hundred dollars from a wallet
Spent in just a night
Under the tree, Santa looks
His childish dream ever shattered
Zero gifts from santa himself
My dad always told me
"When you get older
The number of gift you get dwindle
And when you reach my age
There's nothing left for you"
YOU ARE READING
Tears Of The Rose
PoetryA. Ton. Of. Random. Poems. Just warning you. The poem that inspired the title of this book: Tears of the Rose A rose Is a prickly thing Armed with barbed thorns Stinging like thousands of merciless Bees that hover protectively Over their prize. Rose...
