It’s that sad time of year
When all through the streets
Lay the Christmas trees, cast away,
Along with their wreaths.
The joy that they gave has been tossed in the pile,
And won’t be rekindled for a very long while.
The glow of the lights no longer draped on their frames,
They lie on the sidewalks, forgotten and lame.
What happens to thee, my fine firry friend?
Although some would claim twas already the end
When you were cut from your roots to adorne holiday homes,
Now you lay without purpose, without tinsel, or cones –
Along with the packaging stuffed into bags,
You lie there like trash, to be heaped with the slag.
At least on a bonfire you’d light up the night
And go out with a glow, as should be your right.
But you were a tree that got shipped to the city –
So you’re destined for landfill – oh what a pity –
Well I, for one, my dear Tannenbaum,
Will carry your image all the year round;
In my heart you’ll stand tall, smell sweet, and be green,
Bedecking my memories of Christmasses been.
The branches I’ve saved will make sweet incense,
And well into summer emit your fragrance –
I shall honour your life force, and all it betokens,
Keeping faith that your offspring ever will grow again –