I wonder where we all would be
Without a noble Christmas Tree?
In Brussels real firs are on sale
With spiky fronds and needle trail.
We swathe the boughs in tinsel streams
Each festive ornament now gleams
Reflected in electric light
Days ahead of Christmas night…
Excitement mounts, the thrill now lies
Anticipating children’s eyes
Mad rush for gifts, both big and small
Which congregate in coloured sprawl.
In Ozzie heat, fir trees are scarce
So out of one long box comes first
Fake branches and a sturdy base
Soon reconstructed, put in place.
Isabella joins with Dad
In no time their tree is clad
Thomas also lends a hand;
With Mummy’s snap, it's in the can!
(c) Poet in the woods 2020
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