The day after the birth of Jesus
I stare at the same tree
of shinny balls and crepe bows
tiny lights glittering still
Angel atop in a flowing dress
her face calmingly serene
yet she looks down differently
waiting she stay very still
I stroke the prickly needles
perfect with seeming life
hangs a few gold dusted pine cones
smelling sweet in death still
No more gifts boxes to hide its fate
most eyes had turned away
sadly it tries to look the same
but Christmas is over
Jackie
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