It happens every year.
This sad occasion that comes
soon after the magic of Christmas has worn off.
Parents call small hands and big eyes
behind closed doors,
and with that Santa takes to his deathbed.
“We need to tell you something”
parents utter as
Santa takes his last breath and
lies still as his lungs savor their last breath of air.
He lies motionless as he nods off for an extended sleep.
A casualty of a child’s growing up,
he is laid in his grave,
next to that of children’s imaginary friends.
The Tooth Fairy, the Easter Bunny.
It’s only a matter of time before
a child begins to realize.
Begins to comprehend, begins to grow up.
Years, hours or moments
behind them will follow innocence.
There will be no one there
to dictate when the time will come.
It will happen gradually,
unnoticed for a time,
and then the child will realize,
that something is missing. That they’ve lost something,
something they never quite knew they had,
until it was gone.