LF Friends, Will Travel

Santa is a Deathworlder

It was the night before Christmas, or so I'd been told.

A Terran occasion, a tradition so old.

Of gifting and giving, a celebration for all ages.

(An economic boost, the spending of wages).

The station was festive, decorated with care

Creating much confusion for those unaware.

Tinsels and lights, in red gold and green,

The most festive of places that's ever been seen.

In the core of the station, as tall as can be.

Was a humongous, fantastical, bright Christmas tree.

That's not why we're assembled, that's not why we're here.

A Terran wants to share the most merry of cheer.

For all of the children, the pups and the chicks,

Are awaiting the arrival of one old St Nick!

There had been an announcement, of gifts and of joys

Of the Terran tradition of the giving of toys.

Excited and polite, they sat around the stage

Anticipation was obvious, regardless of age.

Ritilian Hatchlings sat with an alien newt.

While two Quoxxett cubs were boisterous and cute.

A two-headed Zassu, arguing with themself.

And of course, there was me, dressed as an elf.

As I stood costumed on stage, I felt rather astute.

But as a teddy bear Hatil, Terrans just found me cute.

I gave a wave of a paw, the signal to start.

The crowd quieted down as I spoke from the heart.

"Welcome friends and all, to this special occasion.

I'm glad to see none of you needed persuasion.

A Terran tradition, a long-since-told tale,

Of a magical Terran, from Earth he does hail.

One night only he rides, he travels around.

Visiting every child, he's faster than sound.

And if you haven't been naughty, if you've been quite nice,

He'll give you toys from his workshop, from his home on the ice.

With no more delay, please give your applause.

For the jolly St Nick, for the merry Santa Claus!"

Steven burst in from the back, arms stretched out in greeting,

Any thought of a calmness was rather quite fleeting.

My friend was dressed in a costume, of cloth red and white

With a large bag of presents, he was quite the sight.

His belly was cotton, his beard was quite fake,

But the joy was all real, that he left in his wake.