I believed that Santa Claus would come.

On Christmas night, after I went to bed.

Down the chimney I was told.

Feet first,  that big belly,  then his red and white capped head.

A sack full of toys slung over his shoulder.

To give to me,  if I was a good boy all year,  is what Mom said.

Whatever I asked for,  Santa would put in gift wrapped boxes.

And under the ceremonial tree,  those gifts he would spread.

This is how to celebrate Christmas,  is how I was led.

But Mom,  what about baby Jesus,  born today.

And swaddled in the Manger,  where the animals were fed.

If baby Jesus later died for our sins.

Should we not honor Jesus with gifts instead?

The Three Wise Men did, 

Because they could see ahead.

And knew that it would not be Santa.

Saving their soul,  when they are dead.

 

By JD Bardo