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.