'Santa' he whispered from behind a chair
as I sipped on a beer in a sunny Ghent sq
'Santa' once more with greater intent
now arms on my table and closer he lent.
His eyes lit up when I nodded and smiled
it swept out his breath and froze him a while
I smiled again with my best biggest grin
stroked my white beard just to rub it all in.
He dashed home over cobbles excited to bear
the very good news he had seen Santa there
what I would give to have seen that sweet face
when a handful of carrots were found in my place.
©Alan Halford 2012
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem