One day perhaps I might understand

narrative verse

 

One day perhaps I’ll understand

 

They say there is no Santa Claus

 the bigger kids. Its just your dad

I don’t believe their lies of course

Although sometimes it makes me sad

 

I haven’t got a dad you see.

He died a long, long time ago

There’s just my mum my sis and me

That’s why I’m certain that I know.

 

There has to be a Santa Claus.

On Christmas morning there will be.

Some presents for each of us

in piles beneath the Christmas tree.

 

I only six but I know this.

That Santa works all through the night

 making sure he does not miss.

A chance to bring a child delight.

 

One day I hope to catch the sight

of Santa Claus all dressed in red.

But mummy makes me go to bed

 and she will watch for him instead.

 

She leaves mince pies and ginger wine.

Then she settles down to wait.

My sister goes to bed at nine.

Mum falls asleep and wakes too late.

 

He’s been and gone, so have the pies

While mother slept, kind Santa crept

into the house and ate the pies.

He left our presents while we slept.

 

At least that’s what my mother says.

If I should ask why she cries

On this the happiest of days.

Because I miss him she replies.

 

I’m not quite sure I understand

the reason for my mummy’s tears

Santa has gone back to Lapland

where has lived for years and years.

 

I think my older sister knows

A secret that she will not tell

She’s not allowed to suppose.

Because she sometimes cries as well.

 

But I’m a boy and boys don’t cry

But when they cry it makes me sad

Although I really don’t know why.

I never really knew my Dad.

 

Tuesday, 01 December 2009

http:// blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers

Reviews

[Emily B]

lovely verse . . . makes me excited for the chance that Santa will come to my house again . . .

[Tarek]

wowwwwww. i nearly cried while reading this. This reminds me of my life when i was younger.

[James Paulin]

Nice to travel back to age six when times were simpler and Christmas was full of promise and hope. After all, our reality is mostly shaped by how we perceive potential and aspire to achieve what is worthwhile. I admire your poetic prowess.