Three hundred and sixty four
pass by,
in haze of frenzied work and toil.
Where prayers and wishes
come to pass,
for good small people,
lassies and lads.
They have written letters short and long,
to one old gent,
with scarlet on.
He reads them all from far and near
and as the wind blows he can hear
their deepest wishes whispered low,
then posted through the chimney flue.
If one believes, as children do,
in magic times and faeries too,
where eyes light up with wonder bright,
it really is a magic sight.
And as they hang their stockings high
they leave a carrot close near by,
a glass of milk a cookie too,
sits waiting as the clock strikes two.
Three hundred now and sixty five
as Rudolph flies across the skies,
with precious cargo piled so high for children sleeping,
no peeping eyes.
A fashioned doll,
a train that's red,
a book of stories to be read instead,
a baby's pram a bat and ball,
all made by Elves and helpers small.
A job well done! on this clear night when Santa called,
sleep well,
sleep tight.
Adding your comment:
Yes, 40 lines rather " squashed" the message 
but I shall keep trying to get the poetry as it should be after the contest closes. Thank you for the time spent judging, it is appreciated 
Many thanks for your kindness 
Glad you quite liked it though 
