A Tree for Dad: A Tale of Tree-Trimming Turmoil

This is Mother Combs's Unofficial Vocal Community Challenge. Here is my poem entry. Thank you so much, Mother Comb for this opportunity.

The Christmas tree stood tall,

Like a proud soldier guarding it’s corner.

The message was clear to all,

I am Douglas Fir, not a foreigner!

**

Unspoken words from a tree,

That sang,

I am beautiful, can’t you see?

Welcome the way my branches hang.

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Cover with decorations,

Divert eyes with glitter and gold,

Be strategic with the locations.

A tree for Dad, this will leave him cold.

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Throw some tinsel here,

silver baubles there,

Festive trimmings even in the rear,

Ornaments that have a flare.

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The stage has been set,

We are ready for the unveiling.

My nerves are fried, armpits are full of sweat,

This Christmas tree is for my Dad, who was ailing.

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The living room was filled with stress,

As my Dad came through the door,

Gazed at the tree mess,

Then peered at the floor.

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Sending up prayers,

For a Christmas miracle,

Of acceptance, do I dare?

Yet this scene was quite satirical.

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“Where's the rest of the tree?”

My Dad spoke,

Words carried with a note of plea.

Not sure what you mean Dad, I answered with a choke.

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“What are you trying to do,

Break an old man’s heart

With the most pathetic tree, you know it’s true?”

Yes, I knew right from the start.

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This tree was the not the best,

Charlie Brown’s tree had more branches of green,

This tree looked like an ornament mess,

Like someone had picked the pine needles off clean.

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With elderly eyes drilling holes,

Into the back of my head, I had to utter the words,

The tree farm sent the wrong one, damn their souls!

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Upon further exploration,

My fumble this year,

Too busy to pick his tree,

Leaving it to another, I fear.

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Can I still get a Christmas Miracle?

One that is of acceptance so lyrical?

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Telling him it’s not that vile,

If we use powers of imagination,

We can turn that frown to a smile.

Stop with your negative fixation.

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Squint your eyes.

Back up a step, one, two, three,

It’s a great way to disguise,

The fact that this is a bare ass tree!

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It was a comedic moment,

One that was full of laughter for me.

Sadly, Dad couldn’t get into the humorous moment.

His Christmas spirit started with the tree.

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A lesson for all adult children,

Make the time for picking out the tree.

Wrestle it on your car with the grandchildren,

Even when you have time, that it’s not so free.

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Because you never know,

When it turn out to be,

The very last Christmas tree,

your elderly parent ever sees.