The Christmas Tree

As a seedling grows,

atop a snow cap mountain,

It bathes in the sun, like a bird in a fountain.

As the cold wind blows

and the tree grows tall,

It’s branches are dusted as the gentle snow falls.

With it’s needles of green and scent of pine,

Now it is only a matter of time.

At last,

The day has come to fulfill it’s duty

and don Christmas Treasures,

For it’s moment of beauty.

All along the tree’s great desire,

bring joy to this family

All nestled by the fire.

Stella