When I was younger I believed in Father Christmas
A magical man who made my dreams come true.
I would sit on his knee and tell him everything I wanted
But, thanks to Mrs Claus, he already knew.
He was warm and loving and laughed with all his heart,
He knew everything, and I thought he was so smart.
He knew if I’d been good or bad, but he wouldn’t judge
and it never changed how much he loved.
Father Christmas wasn’t just with me once a year,
He was with me every day, and I proudly called him Dad.
I wish I could write one last letter asking for things I cannot have,
Christmas has lost its magic and it makes me feel sad.
Advertisements
oh Becky . . . . I do love you …. Mrs Claus, (missing her magic too.) xx