It is just about finished,
the day for which I work all year,
and the end is near.
Tired and sore,
and what’s more, I have one
last package to deliver.
I shiver at the thought,
and I probably ought to have
given it sooner. My eyes burn
and I yearn to give them rest.
But, the best sight for these sore eyes,
is the surprise on her face
when I place this final package
in her hands. It only stands to reason,
every year during this season,
she waits; the patience of a saint
is hers. This gift is always the last one given.
As long as I’m living, I’ll be giving it.
She wraps her arms around me
and I see the smile it brings.
And my heart sings when Mrs. “C”
unwraps her gift. Me. I am Santa Claus.
My journey is complete. “Honey, Rub my feet?”