The Heart of Nicholas

In Myra's sun washed, ancient streets, where lanterns glowed in dusky air, walked Nicholas with

quiet steps, a man of mercy, soft in prayer. He carried not

a jingling sleigh, nor wreaths of pine, nor reindeers might, but coins tucked

in a humble cloak, to scatter hope through darkest night. In Myra's streets,

kind Nicholas trod, a giver gentle, close to God. He slipped his coins through windows

bare, a quiet answer to a prayer. Through whispered tales, his legend grew,

as old became remade as new. Sinterklaas crossed the ocean wide, where Santa Claus

began to stride. He listened where the whispers told, of hunger's ache, of winter's sting,