Little feet

    And then once again
    for shameless things said
    he was sent to bed,
    no food in his belly
    but a mark on his cheek
    like a rose growing in snow.

    And while he did not see
    anything wrong with voicing
    his thoughts on Mom,
    he could not dwell
    on the thought so swell
    for a sharp rap on his window.

    And he opened a crack,
    looked out in the alley
    to see a young girl
    of years same as his
    and though more dirty,
    still very pretty.

    And they started to talk
    about parents, beatings,
    and the throes of childhood
    that are so many
    when the girl said
    I don’t have any.

    And the boy,
    as stupid as he was,
    saw that this girl
    had never known a Santa Claus.
    Are you hungry?
    I can sneak you some food.

    And so he hurriedly
    crept out of his room
    almost tripped on a broom
    and reached the kitchen,
    opened the fridge,
    and stole some stuffing.

    And this was when
    his mom got wind
    of little feet making noise
    the feet of little boys
    and she got a bit leery:
    the boy wasn’t in bed.

    And as soon as the boy
    reached back to his window
    his mom was upon him.
    She saw his actions
    and swooped down in reaction;
    he couldn’t even move.


    And in that instant
    the throes were lessened.


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