The joy of children visiting Santa and on Christmas morning inspired this; and the hope that we never lose the "magic of Christmas" as we age is my wish for us all for the holiday.
Holiday Magic - Always
The little ones can't seem to wait
For the moment to come to celebrate
That annual trip to visit "the man"
Excitement provided as only Santa can.
Mom and Dad take them in the family car
Off to the mall - it's way too far!
"Are we almost there?" the kids cry out
The littlest one begins to pout
At last they join the long, long line
Where Santa sits in red suit so fine
The moment comes when Santa will say
"What can I bring you on Christmas Day?"
Tongue-tied and silent - unable to speak
Legs getting wobbly and knees become weak
At last they tell Santa their fondest wish
For a doll, or a sled, or a shiny goldfish
Santa will nod and remind them to be good
Then it's back in the car to the old neighborhood.
On Christmas Eve when they head off to bed
As the visions of sugar plums dance in their head
The hours of night pass and they awake with a start
Down the stairs they come with hope in their heart
Santa's cookies are eaten and the lights on the tree
Shine brightly on gifts - such a sight do they see!
Happy hearts, joyful moments, in our memory remain
Though we age and move on holiday magic we retain.
You have very effectively described the joys and anticipation of the children; and it is unfortunate that as we grow older, we see to love that "magic." Love and best wishes,
I'm certainly with you on this one Pamela...a wonderful, magical write!!!!! Loved every single word....
Anna
Reviewed by Jerry Bolton (Reader)
Reviewed on December 13, 2009
Such a delightful poem, Pam, you captured a children excitable expectations perfectly. And although I have grown into an old humbug for the most part, I can recall how wildly my heart beat when I awoke on Christmas morning and hurried to find out what Santa left for me.
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Robin Ouzman Hislop's poetry is certainly in dialogue with some of the key architects of the 'poetics of indeterminacy' – both the Modernist strands represented by the likes of Beckett and Stein, and the postmodernist strands represented, initially,
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Anna