Misled

Those two young children kneeling on the hearth are Sis and me.
We’re shouting up the flue those words that magically take wing
And speed home to the pole and to the ears of Santa Claus and he
Is taking up his pad to carefully note what things we’d have him bring.

In our world of wonder such a thing’s a given, possible.
So, as to being good, we snow him with our virtue, saintliness.
Though never to be seen being adult means that he’s gullible
And our requests and cuteness will be crowned with sure success.

A shock to later find he is in fact just Mum and Dad
As is the Fairy who leaves silver tribute for our teeth.
It’s Sis and me that’s gullible, we’ve been hoodwinked, had!!
Our world of magic put to death and buried without wreath.

But even then misled since Carolyn Keene author of ‘Nancy Drew’
We now find figment of a children’s-book tycoon whose
Basic outlines he’d have fleshed by others to his formula to brew
The lit’ry pap that held us captive, avid fans of one who never was.