The Day Santa Died

The Day Santa Died

On a cold and frosty night
Three innocents asleep where they lay
And a piercing scream rang out
“Santy’s come! Come see what he’s brought your way!”

Three bodies sprang from their pads
To see the toys and fireworks and fruit
Dragging it back to their room
Where they quickly unwrapped the loot

The warmth of the room permeating the air
The coals on the grate from the night before
Glowing and growing, crimson and warm
And with careless abandon began to explore

Opening and breaking they scattered about
The treasures received in the night
Then into the coals a sparkler was thrust
Until it warmed and started to ignite

Then pulling it out and waving about
Too young to know he had misused
But when it slipped from his fat little hand
It fell on the rocket’s red fuse

Oh say can you see, how the rocket’s red glare
Spews stars and they're starting to fall
Then the rocket slowed, we though it was through
But turned and knocked Santa off the wall

Then Dad slowly entered our upturned room
With a look of shock on his face
“Do you see what you’ve done?
Just look at the mess in this place!”

We were banished back to our beds
To wait till we could go outside
And that fateful day we heard dad say
You’ve killed him! Santa has died!

© Copyright 2004 Writer of the Winds (UN: caracas at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
Writer of the Winds has granted Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.