My hand shakes as I knock on my mothers door

I’d been a believer since I was born.

She promptly appeared, an eyebrow raised.

I then proceeded to make my case.


What old man can squeeze down a chimney?

Especially after all those cookies.

How can he travel around the world in less than a day?

I mean, The North Pole isn’t even a nice place to stay.


“Mom, is Santa Clause real?”


She sighed, shook her head, And prepared for me to cry.

But I didn’t shed a tear, and do you want to know why?

Sure, I was sad that magic wasn’t real,

But it instilled in me a new ideal:


I began to see the need for good in the world

And that’s why Saint Nick was kept around, to encourage people to hold 

On to hope and happiness,

Even though life becomes a mess.


Christmastime is the most wonderful time,

It’s a break from all the gruel and grime.

If I didn’t want the magic to be gone forever,

I needed to make the world better 

I needed to be kind, generous, and loving

To those who needed comforting.


With this realization,

Came the end of the fun.




A new era had begun.

This poem is about: 


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