Did You Ever Think God Might Be Santa Claus?

Merry Christmas! Today I decided to share a poem, hot off the laptop. May your holidays be filled with peace and joy.

Photo by Laura James on Pexels.com
MAYBE GOD IS SANTA CLAUS

Five days till Christmas, we huddled by the tree,
counting the presents, guessing what was inside.
We studied our reflections in the shiny balls,
blew gently on the strands of tinsel
tinted by the red, blue, and yellow 
bulbs shining warm, leaking white light
where the color had been scratched off.
We had sat on Santa’s red velvet knee,
sharing our requests, and we knew
he would grant them, for Santa Claus
never said no, it costs too much. 

Yes, we saw Grandpa hauling gifts
from the blue Chevy to our door.
Aunts and godparents brought more,
but it was Santa we were counting on
to bring those extra special things,
not pajamas but a bike or the doll
that walked like a real little girl. 

All we had to do was be good
as we sat in our dress-up clothes,
hands neatly folded in our laps
at Grandma’s house on Christmas Eve
where the tree was taller than the sky
and a train chugged through a village
made of houses, toys, and mirror lakes.

When it was finally almost Christmas day,
we went to bed early but couldn’t sleep.
We heard sleigh bells ringing in the yard,
reindeer clomping on the roof,
Santa making his delivery. Oh!
And when the night was finally still,
we scrambled to the heater vent
and saw the ribboned bicycle,
the bulging stockings by the tree. 

We waited impatiently for dawn,
then scrambled shrieking out of bed,
waking Mom and Dad. Come on!
Oh, the joy. Every wish fulfilled,
We didn’t see Mom’s flat stocking,
only her smile as we poured out
pencils, Lifesavers, and chocolate coins.
Can we have one? No, not yet.
First we have to go to church.
We sat in the pew swinging our feet,
looking at pictures while the priest
prayed in Latin far away, and then,
more presents, breakfast, company.

We never knew other kids
might have no gifts, no pine-scented tree,
no Grandma’s house on Christmas Eve.
as we sat in a sea of wrapping paper,
playing with our brand new toys
while Mom cooked pancakes and sausages.
God gave us a taste of heaven
to get us through the coming years,
a memory to counteract the tears.

--Sue Fagalde Lick

There’s nothing like the love of a dog

Annie Feb14C

This week, I have decided to share a poem with you. The left side of the loveseat is mine. The rest belongs to Annie. Enjoy.

On the Green Love Seat

Come into the circle of my arms.

Lay your head upon my lap.

I will rub your belly and whisper

into your floppy velvet ears

that you’re my one true love.

 

Stretch your paw across my arm,

lick my fingers with your long pink tongue,

sniff me with your moist black nose,

fix your amber eyes on mine.

You are my one true love.

 

Let your nails chafe the worn upholstery,

your tan fur coat my clothes,

your fleas walk across my bathrobe.

I will hold you anyway

for you are my one true love.

 

When you whimper in your dreams,

I will hold you closer still,

safe in the circle of my arms

in the endless spinning of the earth.

You, dear friend, are my one true love.

 

Photos and text copyright 2016 Sue Fagalde Lick
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