A Visit from Santa

By Amanda Tumminaro

He came down the chimney, bumped and tattered,
and for a minute, at his appearance, I snickered and tittered.
But he said, “No harm, no foul, my dear,”
and extracted me, wee me, from my stocking.
In all good amusement, I provided him with cookie,
and it was only then I saw myself in him:

He was but a myth, one that happened to be living,
and at this resemblance I was both moved and felt a tickling.
His unexpected presence made me glow;
I could not pull myself from him, or leave him to snow,
for I know he was the one to bring me my blessing.
From his jolly shadow, I could not be removed,
and I grinned like a child to hear the hooves on the roof.

Adulthood brings the extinction of his existence,
and I nodded in agreement, for this validation was insistent.
I wised up and realized the North Pole was here!
So, I carefully opened my heart, and let him hear:
I was a child in so many ways, but he loaned me his ear.
A lump of coal was in absentia from a kindred peer.

With his hearty laugh and his curly white beard,
he was a man of great integrity, if misunderstood by the herd.
He ate my presence like a starving man;
It was a feeling I hadn’t felt in many holiday or year,
and he confided in me how adults forgot and disappeared.
His point of view I could quite understand,
for, just like him, I had been plucked from the land.

In this grand little visit, all walls had been broken,
and I reveled in his cheer and his interest in what was spoken.
I was now a believer, yes, an eternal believer!
He knew that’s where I stood and had me convinced:
My faith in him advanced in just the hour that had passed.
I picked up a dove and forever dropped my cleaver.

And what happened to my new friend, you now ask?
Well, he met with his reindeer, and tended to the task.
Our visit was short, but had an impact:
At his appearance, all stars had fallen into place,
and I went to bed that eve with a smile on my face.
In the morning I awoke and raced to the tree,
and there, there it was, I had all you couldn’t see.

Amanda Tumminaro was born and raised in the Midwestern region of the U.S. where she resides with her lovely family. Her poetry has been published in The Non-Conformist Magazine, The Oracle, and Barzakh Magazine, among others. Her first poetry chapbook, "The Flying Onion," was published in 2018 by The Paragon Press.