Christmas Tree

Trimming the tree was a Christmas Eve ritual

in my family.

Each year my cousin would come to help my mum.

They would carefully take the glass baubles from the box

that used to hold her big doll called Topsy.

Then they would put them all in their special place

in my family.

“No the elephant doesn’t go there,

that’s where the peacock should be

and the Christmas pudding goes above.”

Everything had it’s place on the Christmas tree

in my family.

There were shiny miniature crackers never to be pulled

and curly, coloured candles never to be lit, for economy.

No tinsel was allowed for that was cheating.

Only baubles to cover the tree, hiding the green.

The glass baubles had belonged to my cousin,

so had the tree. And earlier, to her mother and granny,

all in my family.

The only family to fall out over trimming a tree,

my cousin’s husband used to say with some truth,

as every year the arguments as to which

bauble should go where were replayed

in my family.

So much stress over trimming a Christmas tree,

that I think they drank Santa’s sherry!

They must have needed it!

And ate his mince pies, 

after trimming the tree

in my family.


Popular posts from this blog