’Twas the afternoon before Christmas,

Matthew stood in the chair near the tree.

He rocked when he leaned to touch branches,

And fell in. $#@&!! Oh, gee.

           

The artificial tree was broken.

Little Matthew was doing just fine.

We’d have to settle for a real tree,

But all lots were sold out of the pine.

           

Dad said, “Hey, I know just the right place!”

Soon we were all in the minivan,

Everyone was solemn and silent,

Hoping dad had a really good plan.

           

Dad pulled into a closed tree lot,

There was one tree leaning near the trash,

We wove it inside all between us.

Dad drove home with a pine tree mustache.

Marlene Tucker, a native of Haslet, Texas, makes her home on a farm just outside Axtell with her husband, Bill. She says there is a poetic story in almost everything. Email her at marlenetucker22@yahoo.com