We’re sitting so lonely and feeling so blue,
The spirit of Christmas, not as we knew.
Dad left us in March, his joy we will crave,
His spirit of Christmas, has gone to the grave.

Remembering his perfectly groomed Santa suit,
With his beard oh so white that made him so cute.
His glasses are placed just so on his nose,
The love of the season, his face always shows.

Our dad could not wait for each toddler to see,
As they were hoisted and held upon his big knee.
The presents were offered and the treats where all shared,
With the smile of each child all knew that he cared.

With his bellowed laugh and his great HO! HO!,
His Santa role was always destined to grow.
No need for a pillow, his belly just right,
All the children agreed, what a wonderful sight!

For with his prancing about and spreading of glee,
Spreading a very special love for all to see.
The great Christmas wish of good will and joy,
That our dad had obviously kept since but a boy.

Who will be Santa this year is the question I ask,
For no one among us will be up to the his task.
Our hearts have been broken, no spirit we feel,
But we know that with time, we can all slowly heal.

So please God I’m asking, as I beg and I plea,
Let dad play Santa in Heaven, with kids on his knee.
For if he’s the same strength there as when on this earth,
A blessing unfolds, with all it’s ponderous worth.

People also view

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *