Decorating The Tree

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
Do you ever wish for a giant ceiling high Christmas tree??

Submitted: December 04, 2016

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Submitted: December 04, 2016

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Decorating The Tree

 

Today we’re bringing in the tree and then we’ll decorate,

the moving it round and finding a spot is something I always hate.

 

This one, it really is so tall, the top is way up high,

did it have to be quite so huge? I have to wonder why.

 

So where are we going to put it, we’ve decided on a corner

but it’s gonna be some kind of chore, I think that I should warn ya!

 

I’ll take the bottom, you take the top, we’ll navigate our way

and when you get to just the spot you only have to say,

 

guide it up as far as you can reach and I’ll try to keep it steady,

then help me push it in the pot when it is good and ready.

 

I trip up one the furniture, you trip up on the mat

and going by the yowling, we’ve gone and scared the cat.

 

But at least now the tree is upright, we both look quite a mess,

I’ve already had enough of this I really must confess.

 

The decorations we have stored, the boxes we’ll get down --

is there going to be enough of them? I wonder with a frown.

 

The tree last year was smaller, it kinda looked a treat

but then there was the accident and many got real beat.

 

We lift the lid and peer inside, I’m sure we’d packed up more,

you say, ‘Don’t worry, I’ll go out and then I’ll hit the store.’

 

So while you’re gone I’ll climb around, put baubles on the branches,

look there’s Santa and a star, I’ll stretch up and take my chances.

 

I reach too far, I’m tipping and I’m falling in that tree;

it topples right down to the ground and it is bringing me.

 

The needles, they are prickly and the branches they are strong

I’ve got a feeling when I’m out of here, something will be wrong.

 

Feet are kicking in the air when you come back through that door

I’m feeling how it’s so not fair, that you’d got the best chore.

 

Another hour of struggling and the tree is almost done

we only have the strings of lights and that, it should be fun.

 

But who designed these stupid strings that catch up in a tangle

we’re both at work and struggling, our sanity to mangle.

 

Finally we’ve finished and you’ve just to flip the switch

Please just work’, I mutter and my eyes begin to twitch.

 

But, hey, they are all twinkling, and giving off that light

a Christmas tree that’s giving me a sense of pure delight.


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