Tag: christmas ornament

Christmas Season Secret

Such essential accessories,
Take a picture with one,
For memories,
Hang it to be seen,
Season after season,
For no reason.

Do you suppose they feel froze,
When the wind blows?
Or do they enjoy being on a door,
As part of your holiday decor?

Vibrant evergreen,
Round and full,
Embellished with bells and bows,
That ring and blow,
When the weather brings,
Wind and snow.

Did you know,
At the far eastern edge of town,
There’s something supernatural,
At Christmas time,
Where any wreath hung,
Can communicate,
As though they’ve sprouted a tongue?

And they can see,
As though they’ve got eyes,
And they probably do,
They’re just not seen by you.

It’s mystical,
It’s unbelievable,
Remarkable,
And wonderful,
The way they tell the elves,
Who’s been naughty and nice,
While just hanging there,
Sparkling amongst,
The lights and ice.

What?
How did you think,
Santa finds out,
What you’re about?
Did you assume,
He’s all-knowing like God,
Or maybe finds out,
By committing fraud?


**********

I guess this is a shock,
Learning a piece of tree,
Can see and talk,
But please,
Don’t mock!
Things aren’t always,
As they seem,
Look beyond a surface,
And you may discover,
Dreams, screams, or schemes.

**********

Outstanding Ornament

Back in the 16th century,

These people in Germany,

Their unbusy minds,

Were a little bit loopy,

And so they thought up Me.

 

Me, the Christmas Tree,

The one small piece of forest,

That you enjoy making pretty.

 

For years I’ve been growing,

And I’m just the right size,

Now the ground’s frozen,

And I wait,

To be the one chosen.

 

Mistletoe is festive,

And wreaths can be splendid,

Various other evergreen trimmings,

They too have their place,

But the highest honor,

Is reserved for me,

Me, the Christmas Tree.

 

So many traditions include me,

No matter where you go,

It’s me you will see,

Me, the Christmas Tree.

 

I see a man he is coming,

Wielding saw and axe,

He is walking my way,

Oh please tell me that this is my day,

The day I get chosen.

 

Luck was with me,

I’m chosen,

It’s finally my turn,

Now my people make me pretty,

And I stand here,

As my branches are garnished,

Watching their fireplace burn.

 

It makes me happy to stand here,

Next to their fire,

Me tucked in this corner,

Makes the room feel more cozy and warmer.

 

Where I stand there’s a window,

Outside it is snowing,

Through it I see another,

Its branches a-glowing.

 

This time of year,

We are everywhere,

Some of us tall,

Others sort of small,

Of all the charming decorations,

Aren’t we the best of them all?