Here I sit in my blue velvet dress
a shy grin,
not wide enough to be a smile
my fingers curled into my palms, and my legs
paralyzed with uncertainty.

The man with his white beard,
looks so real,
as if he has popped out of a Christmas catalog.

His hand around my waist,
feels like a father’s touch,
and soon my fears drift away.

With each snapped picture,
I begin to relax.

At last I’ve met the man who was said to be jolly and kind,
The man who wore a beard as white as snow.
The man who had bright red cheeks,
and a little round nose.

I met this man that day, in my blue velvet dress
with a growing smile,
reaching from ear to ear
hands uncurling from my palms, and my legs
dangling with enthusiasm and buoyancy.