The children’s eyes were bright with joy
as each surveyed the brand new toy
they’d found beneath the Christmas tree
after Santa’s mammoth spending spree.
He’d given a book to clever Jane
and Ted had found an aeroplane,
while Susan’s puzzle was just fine
and Randy’s train was made of pine.
Raymond got a board and chalk
and Jen’s new doll could even talk
while Simon’s yacht could really sail
and John’s cop car had a loud wail.
Every child of the sixty-four
swore they’d seen Santa at the door,
tip-toeing quietly as a mouse,
carrying a sack into the house.
With faces aglow the children agreed
Santa had been very kind indeed.
Then, as one, their eyes grew sad.
They’d each asked for a mom and a dad.
(All rights reserved.)
haiku - cinquain - tanka - sedoka - modernist - nonet - prose - free verse - rhyme - and any other style I decide to try master
About Me
- Catherine Mackie
- Johannesburg, Gauteng, South Africa
- I am a white African. Contradiction in terms? I think not. Sometimes my blog will be serious; sometimes sad; sometimes irreverent; sometimes witty; always my truth simply written.
Showing posts with label Dad. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Dad. Show all posts
Monday, November 1, 2010
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