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Happy New Years to myChristmas Tree
By Bruce Wales
There's always thateve when I sit with the tree with its ornaments,lights, and new orbs when I feel I havemissed the season's best dish of holiday's meaningsand forms. I collar the dog tosit near its base and trigger theirphoto for sure, a memory to save forme and mine to prove it wasChristmas again.
I've taken some sipsof some sherry or wine to lighten, yet savorthe time of recurring hist'riesand meanings of times, when childhood waslife's biggest lens, And hopes were thefuel that burned in my breast before there was feintor deceit and life would benothing but what I would plan and love would comewithout behest.
So, New Years Eve, ithappens this year that we sit alone withthe tree, Morose a bit, alone abit, even needles aredrying alone. I will stand up tallignoring the toll and brazen my lifetill it's gone, and walk up the hillto get my life's fill long after thisevergreen's gone.
Bruce Wales 1-1-12
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