Oh, Christmas Tree
An unusual thing occurred at our house Christmas Eve.
It caused us anger, it was enough to make us grieve.
We waited to the last minute for a live Christmas tree:
A brimful tree of precise size, with perfect symmetry.
On Christmas Eve, we pulled it inside the house to trim.
As we tugged it through, we discovered something grim.
Although the tree was green, it was dead as a doornail.
As we carried it in, pine needles rained down like hail.
It was too late to find another tree, the problem to rectify.
“We can’t have Christmas without a tree,” I wanted to cry.
Long gone the days to trek into woods & chop one down.
I wanted to stomp my foot, I wanted someone to crown.
Not only was there no tree, we vacuumed piles of needles.
“Honey, we need an artificial Christmas tree,” I wheedled.
‘After Christmas sales,’ afforded us a great opportunity.
Now, I can decorate the tree each year, with impunity.
No worry about limbs drooping, no watering to do. I
like the convenience. I like the look of it too. After
all,
it’s
not
the tree
that counts,
it’s what’s under it.
Don’t you agree?
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
