All the good things end

I remember when I was still young and innocent, my dad told me to hang socks every night of December 'cause Santa would put money on good children's socks.

I did, and Santa did.

Every morning I would treat my friends candies. 

That's how easy to make me happy and for me with my friends.

Another Christmas came, I hung socks again. And to my dismay, Santa skipped me

I am not blessed anymore. Things have changed, I thought.

So never in my life again I tried to hang socks nor expect for good things to come.

Of course it's not easy to be happy now, so as making others happy.

But my dad believed I was a good child. I was.

Maybe not anymore.

Nobody believes anymore that I'm good.

Now I understand... he was my Santa.

      x gayle leysa