I got to sit on Santa’s lap yesterday. I hate being skeptical, but I noticed a walker stashed behind his chair. On reflection, though, I think he was The Real Santa Claus. Who else tells you it’s possible to make diamonds from coal? I believe him.
We were conspirators,
secret actors,
and I kissed you
because I was tall enough.
But that is over.
The era closes
and large children hang their stockings
and build a black memorial to you.
And you, you fade out of sight
like a lost signalman
wagging his lantern
for the train that comes no more.
Poem from Anne Sexton, Santa
who tied you up in a dungeon?
I’m going for the diamonds angle.
Yah, who tied you up in a dungeon?
you are the best,
a kiss girl!
You are like a drug, when you don’t deliver, I get the shivers Sera. I don’t know yet if that symbolizes a coal or a diamond. Oh, and it is time to wrap some presents… get out of that dungeon
You have been a naughty girl, haven’t you?
You are a diamond. Nice one.
A lump of coal is all you’ll get for all your troubles for being naughty? A life of being naughty surely doesn’t pay!
Haha! i love that poem. Thanks.
I’ll see Gary’s diamond and raise him a Queen of Hearts
Gary a queen of hearts? Everything else, but not that raven.
Anne Sexton… Yuck.
I believe him too!
Great one!