Poem: Evergreen


Would you believe
each December
we bring in a tree?
Not small at all
but up to the ceiling.
We chop off its top and it gives us
the feeling
it doesn’t stop,
but goes right on out
thru’ the roof
it’s the truth
and it’s green,
and prickly
and hard to stand straight,
like it was in the yard …
where we paid five bucks
to get it laid …
in the station wagon.

[excerpt from: Four My Daughters]

This entry was posted in 1960's, Christmas, Four My Daughters, Poetry, Seasons and Holidays, Videos and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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