The Beauty of an Ugly Tree
A Christmas tree stood ostracised
Misshapen and forlorn
Forsaken and demoralised
Upon that Christmas morn.
The other trees, midst great delight,
Had all been hurried thence
To be adorned with baubles bright
In place of eminence.
Slow snowflakes fell, the light grew dim,
It changed to grey from blue,
When on to a lopsided limb
A red breast robin flew.
A squirrel, deer and field mouse sought
The shelter of that tree
The one the people had not bought
For lack of symmetry.
Then, once the people had their fill,
Their trees on dumps they threw.
But that derided fir tree still
In ugly splendour grew.
P. F. (in conjuction with my 8 year old granddaughter)