I believe in Santa Claus

On a grey, snowy Christmas eve,
My feet, bare on the frost heave,
No place to go, no place to be
Poverty is on aching spree.
I hear the carols and I hear their glee.
Seeps through the doors,
The lights of their Christmas tree.
Then darkness moves on hands and knees,
O thou frosty winds, Carry my grief,
to my memories, of the Baltic seas.
As my soul cries, from Belize.
Hunger can teach you all, they say.
But peace and love is what I crave.
My hands are clipped.
I am a slave, Of the ghoul war,
And my lonesome grave.
But hope is what I survive on,
Looking at the horizon,
I wait, for the brightest dawn.
I believe in magic, I believe in the kids,
Who hope for santa,
To bring them gifts.
I know there will be an end to these wars.
Yes, I perceive the laws.
But sweetheart, let me tell you
I believe in “Santa Claus“

Poem Rating:
Click To Rate This Poem!

Continue Rating Poems

Share This Poem