I used to believe that the lights on our Christmas tree used to help Santa find his way to our house. My father always told me that when Santa passed by at night he drew a note on our misty window with his finger to say how much he loved our tree and that our lights where so beautiful that he new our house from far away where he lived. But unfortunately the rain always wiped away Santa’s note before I woke up. Christmas fantasies where very happy and warm and involved lots of toys and playing. It still has its warm zest until now, but it always comes with a feeling of unexplainable sadness. Memories of those innocent fantasies it might be...
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I used to believe that the lights on our Christmas tree used to help Santa find his way to our house. My father always told me that when Santa passed by at night he drew a note on our misty window with his finger to say how much he loved our tree and that our lights where so beautiful that he new our house from far away where he lived. But unfortunately the rain always wiped away Santa’s note before I woke up.
Christmas fantasies where very happy and warm and involved lots of toys and playing. It still has its warm zest until now, but it always comes with a feeling of unexplainable sadness. Memories of those innocent fantasies it might be...
Post a Comment