mimi gave me a little polka dotted Christmas tree
it fits in both my hands
it is red at the bottom and white on top
looks nothing like a Christmas tree
but an appreciated gesture anyway
mimi's always trying to do nice things for me, for us,
my sister and i
i don't think i'll ever understand why
she our gran and it's what gran's do
the little tree is unsuspecting at first
cold to a touch, made of steel and plastic
and there's a little piece of Sellotape
holding it together
containing little sweets in the tree's midriff
they taste awful, obviously
but then, when you're most bored with the little toy
and begin to put it down
your hand mistakenly twists it
and the bottom turns away from the top
and a tune tinkles from the little tree
it's soft and meek
but quaint and beautiful
jingle bells, jingle bells
jingle all the way
but now it's a little depressing
mimi's gone again
and she doesn't sing along to it anymore
so i simply twist it gently
and hope that it carries on playing.
YOU ARE READING
{2} never alone.
Poetry"...we're hopelessly complicated and beautifully entwined, maybe we're ignorantly emancipated and selfishly try to prove it wrong..." lowercase intended.
