He Wasn'T Just Any Ol' Tree
Our night was to be a long one, yet he was a tough tree,
one of strength and resilience for being so tiny and petite.
For years he has been the most giving fir tree to me,
“o, my sweet Piney, I am so grateful we did meet”.
He was just an old tree I found on grandpa’s street.
Though he was a real fir, he never died after the holiday.
After Christmas we stored him in the attic still lit
so that he could still see and play in his own way.
For that warm attic was the most perfect fit.
By that ol’ wooden bay window he always did sit.
This year will be eight years since my sister died,
Piney too was close to her, but this year was hard.
When I strung his lights and hung tinsel he cried,
for her loving heart he had the warmest regard.
His needles starting to wither, yet his top still starred.
So I sat under him and we talked for awhile
about what we would be when we get old.
He looked at me with a sincere laugh and smile,
said, “thank you for bringing me out of the cold.
If not for you I don’t think I’d ever be sold."
I went to bed sad that I had to leave him upset,
for he was so special and I wanted to stay up all night.
But I knew Christmas morning he would not fret,
for it was finally his day! A happy one not contrite.
When I awoke I saw the most beautiful sight.
My sweet boy Piney had grown three times his size!
To this day I still don’t understand just how.
But it was a Christmas miracle right before my eyes,
and I knew he was happy again someway, somehow.
He realized the meaning of Christmas…to Jesus he did bow.
Christmas Tree Poetry Contest
Shadow Hamilton
December 14, 2018
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