Friday, December 28, 2012

Oh Christmas tree -- a poem

It's the third day after Christmas.
Santa came and went.
So has all my money,
Every penny spent.

All the gifts have been given,
Except one or two or three.
If they don't get delivered soon
They will belong to me.

In the dining room is a basket
Filled with home baked treats.
A four-pound tin of cookies,
And assorted jars of sweets.
 
My village has gone dark.
No one bothers to plug it in.
And all the batteries have run out
And must be replaced again.



And the Christmas tree once green
Is withering as we speak.
 I know it's time to take it down
But the spirit in me is weak.

Everyone loves their Christmas tree
Until they don't no more,
Usually about the time
The needles pile up on the floor.

Some do live, some do fake,
Some do flocked with snow.
Some do tall, some do small,
Some do both for show.

                                                              Then some decorate in color themes
                                                               With ornaments all one hue.
Some do themes they think are cute
And hope that you do too.

Ours was live and once was green
And shined in all it's glory.
And every one of our ornaments
Tells a different story.

 Some tell tales of places we've been,
And people we no longer see.
We have lots of apples red
And plenty of fleur-de-lis.


 There are photos of our little girl
And my stepchildren when they were small
We ooh and ah and laugh a little
As we hang them all.

There are reindeer made of hands and feet
And Santas made of clay
Put together by little hands
And made at school one day.

We commemorate the Saints success
And our love of baseball too.
One shows our love for adoption
 And the birth of our little boo.

We had a few more ornaments
That I loved so dear
They were lost when the tree fell over
A couple of times one year

So now it's time to say goodbye
To this tree once bright
The ornaments are sliding off
And it's no longer standing upright.


These memories I'll tuck away
Until this time next year
But a couple of those pine needles
Probably still will be here.


 


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