Gravy and Santa Claus

I wrote this poem when my disappointments broke through my normally strong wall of happy illusion.


                          You said there would be gravy for supper.
                               I knew you'd be too busy
                           when it came time
                               to make it.
                            I was used to having butter
                               on my mashed potatoes,
                            so it really didn't
                               matter to me.
                            Mom had said there was a Santa Claus,
                               however , I learned not to
                            count on a red suit,
                               or too many toys.
                            I now know that life has
                                too many corners to
                            look trusting around and
                                never find gravy or Santa Claus.