The wild blew wild in the chilly night
To anyone else it would give a big fright
But Father Christmas had to go
High above the blanket of snow
The icy air may make bone chilled
But children's stockings had to be filled
Suddenly a gust of wind blew fast
And grasped his hat as it went past
An image in red dropped to the ground
Spinning like a sycamore seed going round
With a whip of the reigns the sleigh plummeted down
"My hat, my hat," Santa moaned with a frown
They landed and searched, high and low
In trees, on houses, under lamps that glow
But no matter how hard, they could not find the crown
"Without it I can't deliver the presents to town,"
Father Christmas uttered with a tear
It would not be such a magical year
But a little way away, coming from church
Slumped a tired boy, who walked with a lurch
He saw a beacon, as bright as the sun
Towards this wonder he decided to run
It looked like a Santa hat you bought from a shop
But the pompon glowed bright, right at the top
He knew in an instance it was no ordinary hat
No second rate knock-off, no cheap piece of tat
It was Santa's himself and he must get it back
But where was he now, how could he track?
He could use his phone, an amazing app
That would tell where Santa was on the map
But he knew that was not the Christmas way
It would not bring Santa here on his sleigh
He closed his eyes, made a Christmas wish
That Santa would come, quick, sharpish
As if he wished upon a travelling star
He heard the noise of sleigh bells afar
Coming closer, they came at amazing speed
Reindeers of the most fantastic breed
Flying on magic, with a jolly elf behind
Happiness and kindness to them was enshrined
Despite the snow, they landed not with a skid
Then Santa stood there right in front of that kid
He moved in a flash, like a great sprinter
And his glow stopped the biting cold of midwinter
"I see you have found my hat," he said
"As a reward, tonight you can ride in my sled
Travel the world, give presents galore
Feel the spirit of Christmas and much more."
The boy was so shocked he barely could speak
Slowly walking to the sled, a magic antique
Although hand painted and flow through the night
There was not a scratch, no sign of a fight
Santa helped him upon a cushion in front of a sack
All manner of toys were contained in that pack
Calling the names of every reindeer
They flew up in the air with a great cheer
The red and white hat now firmly on Santa's head
They flew to places, about the boy had only read
From the plains of Kenya to the trails of Peru
From the lakes in Italy all the way to Timbuktu
He saw things he never dreamed he would
All of the wonders that currently still stood
And although the icy wind did blow
His heart was warmed by hot cocoa
And all the way round Santa made such a fuss
But then he was 'The boy who saved Christmas'
YOU ARE READING
Bad Poetry You probably never want to read
PoesíaJust some of the poetry I have written.