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‘Santa Came’

By Nancy Gire
Santa came quietly that year, dressed in red and cheerful as could be. 

It would have been a joy to see him, as he knelt behind the lighted tree.

There he could view the cardboard village, tucked in cotton — by the mirrored sea,

Placed with care beneath the branches by my mother and me.

Nineteen thirty nine, and times were sparse and bleak.

We’d moved from things familiar, my dog and I’d have to leave.

And I so sick at heart, had lost my appetite, 

And could barely eat, no matter how hard I tried.

So sad was I, that Christmas Eve, and I crawled upon the couch, 

Watching my mother trim the tree, being quiet as a mouse. 

Then I spoke to her and said, “Santa may not find me,

As we have only the stairway, no fireplace, and no chimney.”

But mother turned and with softness in her eyes, she made a quick reply —

“Oh yes, he will find you!” “He’ll come in his sleigh, with reindeer that fly.”

“He’ll bring his bag of toys – up the stairs and through the door!”

“Now lay your head down, go to sleep, and don’t you worry anymore!”

So then in quiet confidence – I drifted off to sleep.

Dreaming of little elves and what Santa might bring to keep.

So sound I slept, no dreams were met. Til morning came, I knew no more. 

Then beams of golden light came streaming from the window to the floor.

And as I awakened, brilliant light-like love did they outpour, 

Shining down upon the gifts, and even on those beside the door.

No sadness there, as I tumbled out of bed, I leaped and ran — 

My joy exceeding my five years, who would think or understand. 

“Oh mother, he came! He found me and he did!” It was a miracle you see,

For we were not rich, but rather poor. That is how is was when Santa found me,

In a small apartment, with no chimney, no fireplace and only a door.

And only a stairway, where Santa came to the fore!

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