Santa Claus

Santa Claus came when I was three,

Round belly struggling down the chimney.

He filled my stocking and then said goodbye,

Then he and his reindeers flew through the sky.

A year hurtled by, and when I was four,

Santa Claus dropped in and walked through my door.

He filled my stocking and then said goodbye,

And strolled down the stairs to eat his mince pie.

Another year gone, and when I was five,

I waited again for him to arrive.

He filled my stocking before he walked out

To ride in his sleigh, with motors of doubt.

Another year over, now six years old,

Again Santa came, or so I was told.

My stocking was filled up - each year the same,

But only with presents - no magic came.

Seven years old, and wiser than ever,

Naivety killed, now jut plain clever.

My stocking hangs at the end of the bed,

But no Santa comes - Santa is dead.