Santa Claus

I stopped believing in Santa Claus
when I was eight years old
Peeping from the shadows on Christmas Eve
I watched the truth unfold

The truth can sometimes break your heart 
and shatter childhood dreams
for shedding our cocoons is not
as simple as it seems

This loss of faith conspired to pit
my heart against my mind
and yet I still thought wistfully
of what I’d left behind

In time my Santa came to mean
the spirit, not the man:
a symbol of parental love,
a ritual of the clan

I’ll hang no stockings filled with hope
this year on Christmas Eve
but I’ll give thanks for having learned
a new way to believe