This poem was inspired from reading " A letter To Virginia" which was published in the Chicago Post many Years ago. I hope it captures the essence of the reply.

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I am a man of senior years,
Who has seen many of lifes joys and tears.
One who has travelled life's long road
And carried his share of the daily load.

Near Christmas, I don my suit of white and red
And summon my helpers, reindeers and sled.
Off to the children waiting in anticipation,
Faces shining in great expectationn.

As I take my seat in front of the throng,
I scan the crowd and see all along,
Some smiles, some tears, some fright, some fear,
As they wait for my merry greeting of cheer.

Little ones gaze on me in awe,
While some older ones have seen it before,
And while not sure to believe or not,
Accept the gifts offered, with a quick "thanks a lot".

So dressed in my garb known to all
And sharing the joy of the seasons call,
I am that man, some say doesn't exist,
For I see it present in those I have kissed.

Father Christmas, just a story or myth?.
Heaven forbid not true , he surely does live.
He lives each season of joy and festivity,
In each childs heart, and all adults memory.