Category: poems for children


I committed mail fraud
the day I confiscated my son’s note to Santa
a criminal act done out of heart felt intentions
to make a little boy’s eyes light up
as bright as the remaining working bulbs on our
anorexic, vertically challenged tree.

A crime of passion
with limited unhappy consequences
well so I thought…
especially since the ghosts of Christmas past
has known me to be the only parental helper
Santa has for him

My son’s seasonal wish list
with hand sketched hearts for postage
unintentionally excluding a destination of return if unread
innocence still gives him the confidence that all wishes can come true
when you believe with your whole heart,
so he made sure not to leave any white marks
in-between the red outlines.

As I unsealed the envelope shaped construction paper,
the cracks in our family structure became visible
avoidance is longer a strong enough adhesive
to seal emotional wounds

He wrote:

Dear Santa:

All I want for Christmas is for my dad
to come and play with me
so I can tell him I forgive him and love him

Please and thank you.

On Christmas Eve,
instead of wrapping gifts
I knelt in prayer for a Christmas miracle
for Santa to deliver potential impossibilities down the chimney.

I hope the North Pole UPS workers delivered my letter.

I wrote:

Dear Santa:

Don’t let my son’s heart turn into coal

Please, I beg of you

Bah! Humbug!

The number eight symbolizes new beginnings
and as this birth date is approaching for you
I’m scratching my head
wondering where did time go?
It seems like you were crawling
not so long ago
now the sway in your walk
mirrors your God Father’s
and your mouth runs all the time
it’s like incurable diarrhea  of the mind
leaving many adults to agree
your spirit is gracing this earth for another lifetime

You’ve returned as this millennium’s prophet
as your mother I feel holy
glowing from my imaginary halo
after being crowned as the 21st century Mary
handpicked to birth and raise greatness

I feel constant pressure from my destined obligation
which makes me more grateful for your witty sense of humor,
the continuous sound of laughter in our home
makes a rough day at work and the intenseness of life all better

As your height is closer to matching mine
I become more appreciative for the memories we create together
the songs you write and sing to me,
the nights where you want to cuddle closely,
even when I have to fuss at you for acting like a baby
I remind you,
“You’re a big boy”
but deep in my heart,
I don’t want you to get any bigger

The number eight symbolizes new beginnings
and as this birth date is approaching for you
I’m contemplating adding one less candle to your cake
while I close my eyes and make a wish the same time as you
I’ll ask for a touch even better than Midas’
my magic contact will press pause on your maturity
and you physically outgrowing me
I’ll make a plea for you to stay seven for one more year
when you’re just tipping the scales of being too big to fit on my lap
and during long car rides I can peep you napping in the back
drooling…
a lot…
when you still enjoying holding my hand as we walk across the street
because you still think mommy’s protection is still kinda neat
and you know the end results of disobeying mommy is kinda scary
so you remind me,
“Mommy-you told me to be a big boy”
deep in my heart,
I know prior to this moment
I should have been more careful for what I wished for

 Copyright 2012
Tenisha M Jones