oh christmas tree

oh christmas tree, oh christmas tree ... sang this woman, as she told me about her son going out to chop down a tree yesterday. a smaller tree in comparison to most years, but fit the room perfectly. tho she said, her children were muttering away, noticing the lack of frustration and words expressed; the tree went up smoothly. almost, as if, a bit of the tradition had been lost without the spiel of words worse than a sailor. that tree sat there, in the cauldron, nice and straight. without guide wires. unlike previous years.

so she went along her merry way, placed the star at the top of the tree, and started to string the lights ... only to find her son with one hand behind hers, rearranging the strand. she peered at her son, with that look, and yet he didn't notice. is all she could think of was, my gaud this child of mine, has turned into her. bewildered, she looked at her daughter, and said, 'his christmas has changed forever, he has become me'. confessing, that in previous years, she had become a bit over zealous in decorating the tree. always being one step behind her children, moving the odd decoration to add a better sense of symmetry.

the daughter started to get into the festive action, taking a string of beads, starting at the top. however, encountered a bit of difficulty as the tree a bit taller than her reach. so her brother gave her a hand. she tried to regain the strand, but he just kept on string along. then she backed away from the tree. as if, in the eyes of the son, they were almost if not incompetent on decorating. tho, he let the other two put on a couple decorations, only to pacify them.

despite all, the tree looked perfect!