How far your reindeer fly;

Or if they pass near heaven,

On your journey through the sky.

Because my little brother,

Is with the angels there;

And maybe he can ride with you,

If Jesus doesn’t care.

I know your sled is always filled;

But Santa, I won’t mind,

If you bring my brother home,

You may leave my toys behind.

There is nothing I would rather find;

Beneath our Christmas tree;

So Santa, dearest Santa,

Please bring him home to me.

Eugene E. Lovas