The evolution of my family Christmas trees as I remember them. Near the end of my dad’s life, he would literally take the tree, decorations and all, and shove it up through the pull down door into the attic.


Christmas Tree Memories

There was a time
when Dad chopped down our tree -
a cedar with branches drooping.
He looped the colored bulbs;
my mother hung the fragile ornaments.
At last, our turn came
to hang the icicles,
first with care,
then with gleeful tossing.
Was there a topper?
I can’t recall.

The year the silver tree
adorned the den -
an extra tree,
shiny and new -
snow fell on Christmas Eve.
The carousel of colors spun,
reflected in yellow and red teardrops,
blue and green balls,
foretelling the changes to come.
Christmas transforming,
our family evolving.

The final tree was artificial,
bolted to the wall
so it would not fall
on grandchildren small.
A bright star crowned
a jumble of leftovers -
garland crushed,
broken and bent icicles,
a train circling the base -
a childhood dream of my mother,
made real by my dad.
So it would be their last.



Poetry by Melinda K Zarate The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 29 times
Written on 2025-11-12 at 04:03

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Griffonner The PoetBay support member heart!
I loved reading this poem. Apart from telling the story of Christmas trees in your lifetime, it did, of course, cause me to think back to those in mine. I discovered it was a similar story. Sad but true. Blessings, Allen
2025-11-12