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Tale of a Store Santa ©

Frank E Gibbard
London, England

When his youngster thought he saw that man kissing Santa
It was to be his father’s toughest day of parenthood so far
On holiday at last after working so damn hard and then now
This! knowing exactly what was in store as usual and how!
The 11th hour frightful less than delightful annual jamboree
Shopping mall free-for-all version of the third degree,
“Santa! Dad?!” – came the tugging infant’s urgent plea.
Relents his Dad, “Yes my boy, the real Santa to see”
Through the in-house maze of utter shopping total madness
Winding up at Santa’s amazing so called grotto, oh gladness!

But, woe! said grotto was closed – “Oh my God, No!”
The “Always here from 9 to Six” motto overhung
By a scrawly post-it saying: “Pending Santa’s return”
Whose little boy didn’t dash now anyway to look,
Past the failing efforts that police officer took
To grab him before he entered upon in great excitation
A paramedic’s attempts at poor old Santa’s resuscitation?
His father caught son in the nick of, just to save the day
Before the luckless Father Christmas got spirited away;
Quandary for Daddy not wishing to lose his lad's eternal trust
Or to shatter the mite's expectations or tender innocence bust.

Lie he would gladly to justify what young Tim had just observed
Like skying in a virgin snow some hazards must be neatly swerved.
“Er .. it may look to you like what you see Mum and I do beneath our mistletoe
But the man in green or elf was whispering goodbye as Santa really had to go.”

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