The tree always went up late at home.

I never had time till school let out

To do a tree.  At first the tree was real,

But guilt at killing a living tree

Overcame an urge for authenticity.

And so a substitute, a plastic tree

Unpacked each year, lights strewn

Like spider webs across the wobbly boughs,

Ornaments of plastic, glass, wood, gingerbread

Draped from every twisted branch and twig.

Beneath it, presents slowly gathered and I

Would lie on the couch and watch the lights,

Shining, distorted before my eyes,

Light and warmth offering a shimmering

Illusion in dark winter’s shivering night.

The tree was even later coming down.

Often not till February – Valentine’s Day.

I’d say I didn’t have the time, although in truth,

For me, evening’s reprieve from graceless day

Lay in lying at peace and watching the lights.

About javsimson

Scientist, traveler, woman, writer, spiritual explorer, mother, grandmother, fascinated with the world, appalled by deliberate human ignorance. Website and blogs include:
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