The Christmas Tree

The little tree in the forest green,

Stood alone almost unseen.

Its branches fresh and its smell keen,

Its trunk smooth and looking lean.

 

But lonely it was so small hidden beneath the giants,

Other trees above it to the heavens reached,

Only on occasion did the small tree saw in the breach,

A spot of blue in the sky’s above,

It was like a small thing that receives no love.

 

And then the humans came with axes sharp,

They came into the forest and there purpose, to cut bark,

The big trees were spared for they were to tall and hard,

But the small tree was perfect, a fit flush card.

 

And down he went cut at the base,

Cut down quickly and with great haste.

Then trudged to the car and flung on top,

Into a house he was pushed and there on the floor he flopped.

 

Then put in a thing that made him stand erect,

He was draped with tinsel and bulbs, for perfect effect,

And on his top a star was placed,

A perfect image of Xmas, peace for the race.

 

Packages put under his spread,

People starring at him as his beauty was unveiled.

For a brief time he was the center of something grand,

And then in a few weeks thrown out by a garbage hand.

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