The rich scent of balsam,
Prickling of the pines,
That's how you tell when it's Christmas time.
Walking through the doors,
Standing there with sparkling lights,
Tall and strong and beautiful,
With a star to light up the night.
Lights strung first,
Ornaments next,
Garland if you're frisky,
Sweeping at the base.
Water, water,
4 jugs at the most,
Otherwise you'll need the towels,
The base will overflow.
Tripping over boxes,
Arguing which covering is for which,
Getting stabbing pains from hooks
And finding the tree's right pitch.
The star on last, the most glorious of all,
If only everyone would stay; you're not very tall.
So you drag a stool over and reach for the top,
Hoping as you're leaning that nothing will drop.
It's always crooked at first, so you make a couple trips,
But eventually it's upright and you stand back, pursing your lips.
It won't be the same, you've heard them talking,
No more tree hunting, no more walking
Down to the Church to find that perfect tree,
The one that shouts "Hey, come decorate me!"
So you stand back and watch, as mom and dad come to see
And you hope, oh you hope, they'll love this tree.
True, it won't be the same every year,
But that's the point of Christmas,
Bringing new fun and new cheer.
It can't be the same, no not every year,
The whole point of Christmas is to change and adhere
To new traditions as they rise, and I guess that's what this is.
Everyone's are different, whether yours, hers, or his.
So savor each moment, every last minute.
You never know when it's the last time you're in it.
This time there's a warning, but that's not always the case,
Just sit and admire your tree from the base.
Soon there will be presents, then Christmas Day comes,
And then one more week when the garbage truck comes.
The last time you see it will be on the curb,
Say goodbye to that fresh scent, almost like herbs.
Goodbye to stringing lights and watering it too,
But know that next year will be something new.
