The Suit of Red
written by: Dean Robbins
It happened many years ago:
a Christmas Eve dusted with snow,
a little girl afraid because
she thought me dear old Santa Claus
(and well she should, for there I sat
in snow white beard, red suit and hat).
She caught the corner of my eye,
rooted in place though I would try
to coax her to come talk with me.
Instead, she stood there silently
while other children came to pause
a moment with old Santa Claus.
And there she stayed without a sound;
no turning back, to coming ’round.
Just holding on to Mother’s hand,
content with where she chose to stand;
shaking her head a simple “no”
when Mother urged her, “Why not go
and sit upon his friendly knee?”
But this one would not come to me.
At six o’clock on Christmas Eve
the time had come that I must leave.
I stood and gave her one last smile,
then waited for a moment while
I hoped that might still come say
what she would like for Christmas Day.
But no, she stood where she would stay.
I offered “Merry Christmas dear,”
and walked away.
Then, faint but clear,
two running feet (the tiny kind)
trying to catch me from behind.
I stopped and turned, and on one knee
I knelt ’til she caught up with me.
She leaned in close so I could hear
her whisper softly in my ear
the words I keep from year to year.
“I love you, Santa Claus,” she said.
That’s why I wear the Suit of Red.
- The Suit of Red - December 14, 2024
