Tis a whisper
of greed,
down
the chimney
moves
about
in seemingless
need…
A golly old-soul
blazing snow
warming winter
that
everybody
truthfully knows…
Upon his magickal
sack,
un-ending space
it lacks…
Gathering roof-tops
he displaces lov
within
every an
all
his gift parting,
stops…
Within the morning
light,
mountain tops
the sun does fight…
Upon reaching
the northern pole
memories of the night…
As, Mrs. Claus
is a welcoming
sight…
Santa
deletedangel (New Rambling) 