Altered sleep and a woven dream
A stocking outside the door that was always left unseen
A string of faith and a smile of trust
This is all I had on every Christmas.
My friends cheered with their hands full of candies;
I looked at my mum with a broken heart,
And endlessly asked myself “Do I never hit the old man’s chart”?
I have grown older and this eve I realised;
I have all that I ever wanted and wished
Old man I guess after all gave me what I preached.
He made me my own Santa all these years,
Today afternoon he whispered this truth in my ears.
Stories I See 