Poetry From The Heart by Barbara Ann Smith

The Old Gray Haired Man

There he sat all alone
gray curly hair needing combed
his white beard hung to his chest
his suspender ed red pants were a mess.

His fat belly jiggled up and down
as his bushy eyebrows curved into a frown.
His rosy cheeks bulged as he'd grin
and he had trouble as he tried to bend.

He made all sorts of toys and things
some for adults and those in children's dreams.
Mrs. asked him to stop for awhile
to take a nap and to get ready for his haul.

He kept working as quick as he could
he had piles of orders to make good.
He would stop only to wipe his brow
not wanting to miss a person in a town.

There were orders he had to get out
he didn't have time to stop and count.
He'd make as many as he could
and count them later as he should.

He'd run outside to feed his reindeer
keep them fatten to pull the Christmas cheer.
A snap of his fingers meant he was done
He was ready to make his yearly run.

Mrs. ordered him into the bath
handing him clean clothes to look his best.
Out the door and into the sleigh
he was ready for his big delivery day.

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The Old Gray Haired Man

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