The facination of the story in a Children's Poetry Poem can make their eye's brighten and their minds to never forget.

There he sits all alone,
gray curly hair needing combed.
His white beard hangs to his chest,
suspendered red pants a dirty mess.

His fat belly jiggles up and down
bushy eyebrows curve into a frown.
His rosy cheeks bulge as he grins,
he has troubles as he tries to bend.

He's made all sorts of toys and things,
for adults and those in kiddie's dreams.
Mrs. asks him to stop for awhile,
get rested before his big haul.

He keeps working as quickly as he can,
he has piles of orders to begin.
He stops only to wipe his brow,
not wanting to miss a person in town.

There's orders to build and to get out,
no time to stop and take a good count.
He makes as many as he can,
counts them later with a wave of a hand.

He runs outside to feed his reindeer,
gotta be healthy to pull all his cheer.
A snap of his finger means he's done,
ready to make his yearly Christmas run.

Mrs. draws him a warm bath,
clean clothes make for looking his best.
Out the door and into the sleigh,
he's ready for the big delivery day.

Calling out his reindeer's names,
they fly away into Christmas fame.
Giggling & laughing they stride along,
not wanting to miss a single home.