If They Could Talk

      If only Christmas trees could talk, what stories we would hear.
      The artificial ones I mean, we use from year to year.
      The ones that we have kept so long that we bought years ago.
      I have a little tree like that and I can't let it go.

      I bought it when my kids were young, I really got a deal.
      I got it when the artificial trees were looking real.
      We always got a real live tree before these trees came out,
      But when I saw this Christmas tree I knew there was no doubt.

      My kids are grown and married now and are not here with me,
      And each and every year I say, "that's it for this old tree,"
      But I just cannot throw it out and start with something new,
      I think of all the history that the little tree's been through.

      I sit and watch that little tree when I am all alone,
      And think of all the happy times when all my kids were home.
      The many years and all the presents under that old tree,
      And if that little tree could talk what stories there would be.

      The stories of so many Christmas mornings before light,
      After all the kids had finally gone to sleep that night.
      The family gathered all around before they even dressed,
      And if that little tree could talk, which story would be best?

      That little tree was so involved at Christmas through the years,
      The years that were so joyous and also the ones with tears.
      That little tree was decorated when my grandma died,
      And it was there that Christmas when we got the news and cried.

      My mother gazed upon that tree before she passed away,
      And as I watch the little tree I think of her today.
      So many things I think about when she was here with me,
      So many stories of her could be told by that old tree.

      Many times she sat there while the kids opened their toys,
      Being so excited with them sharing in their joys.
      Never would she miss a chance to see them Christmas morn,
      And started spoiling all of them the minute they were born.

      My wife and mother of my children trimmed that little tree,
      And she made sure the lights and trim were perfect as could be.
      She was taken from us at an early age in life,
      But, oh the stories that the tree could tell about my wife.

      These are just the memories the tree and I both share,
      The first ones that just come to mind when it is sitting there.
      They were mostly happy times as was the life we led,
      The little tree and I don't dwell we always forge ahead.

      So now we make more Christmas memories each and every year,
      And as the grand-kids come around the little tree is here.
      Every Christmas it gets older, but then so do I.
      I guess that I will keep the little tree until I die.

      We've been together for so long and share such history,
      I guess there's nothing that I have that means so much to me.
      Then every year I think of pitching it, but then I balk,
      And every year I think I wish this little tree could talk.

      We have a lot of memories and there's many more to come,
      We have to look at where we're going not where we came from.
      Many people have a tree as this poem speaks about,
      And after Christmas just like me, you just can't throw it out.

[ by James A. Kisner © 2001 (PoppyK1@aol.com) -- {used with permission} ]


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