Our tree in the
attic is
cardboard boxed
and labeled
"Memories
are Here"
it is waiting
once again
to sit by the
window
all lit up and
smiling.
Some buy
a new tree every
year
cut fresh and
forest-scented
but this has not
been the way for us
and those with
pine tree allergies
Our little tree of
wire branches
and plastic pine
needles
like the
Velveteen Rabbit
waiting to
become real
becomes our Christmas
ritual each year
of love and
transformation
The magic happens
as we hang each
treasured ornament
and swag the
tiny crystal lights
remembering the
days
when our
children were small
and full of
nothing but giggles and fairy dust
The little tree
in the attic
our door to the
past and all the love
we've gathered
through the years
I wouldn't trade
it for the world.
