Man in red

From light taps on the roof, he awoke in his bed.

So excited he was, just pulled tight as a thread,

to sneak down to see the man in red live,

who had been no more than a symbol from the mere age of five.

The living room empty; no old fool at all,

yet a noise from the kitchen led him

straight down the hall.

Upon his arrival he turned on the lights,

and what did he find but the most tragic of sights;

he looked on with terror as he stared at his now former wife,

while Santa Claus stood, still holding a knife.

Her eyes held no life just a lost vacant stare, and a splatter of blood stained Santa’s chin’s silver hair.