A Christmas Poem
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They Say There Is No Santa Claus
They say there is no Santa Claus but I know this can not be.
For I had seen him one Christmas Eve, standing beside our tree.
On that night I heard a sound and wondered what it might be.
Was it Santa? I asked myself. Of course I had to see.
I crept out of my bed, trying not to make a sound.
I snuck out into the hall, to the stairway I was bound.
My brothers tease me for believing, claiming Santa was a scam.
They said when I was big like them; I'd see him as a sham.
So there I was, a child of six, afraid of what I'd see.
If it was my dad and not Santa, what would that do to me?
Softly down the steps I crept, like a shadow in the gloom.
I had to peek around the corner and see who was in the room.
Before me stood a fat man, all dressed in red and white.
His belly looked like a bowl of jelly, giggling by candlelight.
With a pipe in mouth he went to work, pulling presents from his bag.
In his hands he held a box, on that box I saw a tag.
He put that present underneath the tree and beside it added two more.
But upon those two, he place some coal and I laughed for he knew the score.
He then turned his bearded face to me, winked and nodded his head.
"Time for children to be asleep," he said. So off I went to bed."
Once in bed I fell fast asleep and dreamt of my Christmas Eve.
For I now knew, Santa does exist, you only need believe.