SanTa

You seemed like him,
Just holly and jolly.
But you’re not.
I wish you were though.

I hate it everytime
You come round.
Milk and cookies were never laid out
No delight, out of sight

Every other Sunday it used to be,
Like a present tossed under the tree.
That didn’t amount to anything
Just a figment
Of my imagination.

I hung the stockings out with care
Holding up high, in my eyes
All I wanted was a glimpse of you
But instead, all I ever got was coal
But SanTa, I’ve been a good girl

Tears well up,
I remember you holding my hand.
But it’s faint,
The memory slipping away
Likes worries on a Christmas Day.

Just like you are,
SanTa, SanTa.
I don’t see you anymore.
Maybe it’s better this way.

I’m a big girl now,
Too old to believe in SanTa.