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Christmas Tree

Oh Christmas Tree,
Old Christmas Tree
How sad to see you lying.
Out in the road, out in the cold,
Your tree sap slowly drying.
The tinsels gone, the fairy's flown,
The lights are out, you're all alone,
Oh Christmas tree,
Old Christmas tree,
How short our love affair with thee.

A cold grey morn,
Your final Dawn
What fate there now awaits you
A council truck will pick you up
And to a depot take you.
A shredder then will use it's knife,
To bring an end unto your life
Then come next year,
It will be plain,
We all will do the same again.

Submitted: Thursday, December 06, 2012
Edited: Friday, December 07, 2012


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Poet's Notes about The Poem

Wrote this after I saw the old Christmas trees left out for the rubbish. Can be sung to the song of the same name.

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