I found this through a quick googling:
There weren’t any chimneys, but that caused no gloom,
for Santa came in through the Florida room.
He stopped at each house….stayed only a minute,
emptying his sack of stuff that was in it.
Before he departed, he treated himself
to a glass of papaya juice upon the shelf.
He turned with a jerk and bounced to the car,
remembering he still had to go very far.
Most people think Christmas requires cold and snow, but for me a temperature of no lower than 60 degrees seems just about right.
One year, the thing I wanted the very most for Christmas was a navel orange. Santa brought me one, and it was the most beautiful orange ever. I refused to eat it, it was so beautiful.
It molded. That was less pretty.
Still, I fondly recall my Christmas orange.