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MY SECRET SANTA CLAUSMom was raised in orphanages Times were tough people were poor Mom was a burden to Grandma's boyfriends She was taken to live as an orphan Her brother was sent to Boys town A pretty young girl she was put in homes San Francisco, Seattle, Salt Lake City She told of year living in the Mormon Temple Her problem being she would not convert Finally of age Uncle Ray never forgot his sister Followed her orphanage to orphanage came and got her. The man who would be my Secret Santa Clause We grew up very poor the house with no windows But there were always presents under our tree The best and most cherished came in the mail They were wrapped and read from Secret Santa Claus Always the first present I would open and the best Sometimes Mom would not approve of the real hunting knife Or the bow that had real hunting arrows a fishing pole The bow string broken from age sits on my mantle My first baseball mitt Uncle Ray heard I was not using one And yes, I still have my Roy Roger bee bee gun Uncle Ray's in heaven today I know looking down As I am gathering things to take to Toy for Tots Sometimes we forget those less fortunate than ourselves I can't every Christmas I remember my Secret Santa Clause Poetry Ad-Free Upgrades Vote for this poem
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