On the eve of Christmas
When it rolls around each year
I pray for the feeling
Of being unable to sleep a wink
My bones chattering in excitement
Keeping me awake
In anticipation, I sink
Hoping to see Santa
Come down the fireplace
With sacked magic
Loaded with presents
But long has passed
Since I’ve grown old enough
To know the truth
This fairy tale I practiced in earnest
Was little more than a staged coup
Christmas morning
Feels like Christmas mourning
When you realize not every child
Gets a gift or a full stocking that uplifts
Or when you’ve seen your parents
In their parent clothes
No sign of shiny, rubber boots
A cob webbed beard
Or Rudolph’s nose
Christmas mourning
Comes around once a year
Until the magic reappears
In the form of paying it forward
To children you love and revere
But what is stolen once
Can be stolen twice
When they grow older
And figure out
Not every child is visited
By Santa and his reindeers