An Original Snapshot Poem by Elizabeth Lancaster
Pinch, poke,
Clink, ping
Those are
the sounds my pine tree makes
If sounds my
pine tree could make.
Green and
red are the dress of tradition.
Silver and
gold scatter branches with fineness.
Because in
this moment of time,
A span which
lasts for a few short weeks,
We put on the
airs of King, Queen,
One blonde
princess
And a little
bald prince;
All wearing
pants with elastic
Holding
homemade jewels,
Crowns for a
nearly real tree,
Tangled in
shiny, flickering bulbs.
We stand
there, we four, the royal four.
We gape at
red and white striped candy,
A favorite
of the princess.
The
glittered round bulbs,
Toys for the
prince.
Each passing
year,
The royal
family will continue to pinch and poke ivory fingers
With plastic
and hooks, and gleaming lights.
The candy
will disappear
And the
elastic will expand,
The princess
will grow with eloquence
And the
prince will grow with hair.
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