Old enough to know his own mind

under a Christmas spell he peeps through his window

bed clothes pulled back,

the light is strong the shadows black

by the candle in his hand. 

 

He knows up there is the face of a man

the picture book tells him so,

the moon believes in Santa Claus

it's all just magic

in the ghostly glow. 

Safety lies in dreams

so to bed he now must go. 

 

Under a bloated moon a child is born

a sterilized dream comes out of the void

the world moves on.