It's getting close to Christmas, time to search both far and wide
to find those buried boxes where the season's treasures hide.
The trinkets we remember that we've saved from year to year
are part of the traditions that make Christmastime so dear.
We choose a tree and bring it home and find a corner, where
it's brightness and its sparkle will reach to us from there.
Our memories in tissue wrapped are found and brought to light,
placed 'round the home and on the tree to bring us great delight.
I oft' will sit at eventide and look upon the tree.
Its beauty and the glow within bring peace and joy to me.
I love this tree so small and fair, it stands so green and bright.
For minutes long my gaze is stayed on ornaments and light,
and at its feet, my gifts displayed. There's magic in its glow.
As I recall each Christmas past, my heart will overflow.
I always wish each tree could last, I wish to keep it there..
But soon its needles, dry in death, will fall and leave it bare.
The old year flies, the new arrives. It's time to put away
these trappings of festivities, the recent holiday.
The house is quiet, halls are dark, the corner empty, drear.
And all that's left are memories of the Christmas that was here.
HHD - 01/01/89