Wednesday, December 6, 2023

A Tree

 A Tree


best friend 

comfort and shade

keeps secrets 

lips sealed


 children climb to the very top

 keep them safe 

 catch a breeze

 hold your breath


selected on cold yule night

cut in the forest

yuletide symbol in it’s prime

bundled and trucked


by the window placed 

it happens every year

first the lights are strung

the old ornaments unwrapped


little red Santa you made in school

snowman of paper covered with glitter

bird in a nest   sings his song

tiny guitar        mouse trap


hang the icicles 

carefully          one by one

last of all          the star for the top


what a sight

like a bandbox

In the night

sparkling bright


raise a toast

and declare

you are the best of all

Christmas tree


Written for:










Mary said...

Your poem makes me feel warm and cozy, Annell! I can picture the lights and the ornaments and the sparkling light at the very top!

Sumana Roy said...

Love how your tree has become a very special tree associated with festive time and beautiful memories.

Sherry Blue Sky said...

I love this. I can see the tree going up, the special ornaments, treasured from year to year, memories of long-ago Christmases. Sigh. Lovely.

Susan said...

"keeps secrets lips sealed" . . . one of the few parts of Christmas not watching to see if we're naughty or nice! An ode to a Christmas tree is very timely. It makes me nostalgic, even for the little projects made at school. Thank you, Annell.

Eileen T O'Neill ..... said...


A beautifully painted poem in appreciation of the seasonal Christmas tree...perfectly of my favourite trees as well...

Susie Clevenger said...

So beautiful. A Christmas tree hold secrets and stories.

Yvonne Osborne said...

I guess this is why I'm always slightly conflicted when we cut a tree to adorn our living room for a month. It's beautiful in here for a month but outside....sigh. Well, can always bring in one of those "live root-balled" trees and replant in the spring. Regardless, I could never be without. Thanks for the memory. That was me, climbing to the top.


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