Winter Poem

The sky is starting to bombard the ground.
The little white bombs fall with no sound.
In our hearts and minds there's no silence but cheer,
Because everyone can feel Christmas soon will be here.
Yes, indeed it's that time of year.

Still there is much work to be done,
Whether you're mama, or papa, or son.
For one, there are lights to be hung,
Then, of course, carols must be sung.
Would it be Christmas is no jingle bells are rung?

But there is one element of Christmas that is essential,
It's our strongest happiness producing utensil.
It's wide at the bottom and quite sharp on top.
It's green now and thats not going to stop,
Until every last needle it's got comes to a drop.

So we all load up in our own horseless sled.
And off to the manmade forest we head.
There's many a tree to pick from, all lined up and bound.
In the end we decide on a small one. A choice that is sound.
To our roof he is bound. Hold on little buddy don't fall to the ground.

Back to our home safely we arrive.
For the best tree we've ever had we strive.
We hang the glass spheres up from side to side.
From high up we drop the ribbons. We watch them glide.
Could anything possibly be more fun? I just can't decide.