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THE CHRISTMAS TREE ANGEL
by Valerie Waite *
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They’ve brought me out of the loft once more
I’m feeling rather jaded.
My halo’s bent, my wings are torn
And my velvet dress has faded.
Again, I’m perched at the top of the tree.
If only they’d move me down.
Well, how would you like it if you had to stand
With a fir twig stuck up your gown?
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Oh, here they come! The Shepherds,
The Three Kings, and the Donkey.
We’re all well past our sell-by dates,
And all have parts that are wonky.
My left leg fell off last year and
Yes, they did put it back
But the repair was only a temporary affair,
And my leg’s still stuck on with Blu-Tack!
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Every year it’s always the same:
They hang us in our places,
Where we’re all expected to do our bit
With smiles upon our faces.
Well, have you ever tried to smile
When dangling from branches that prickle?
The tree lights dazzle, there’s a draught from the door,
And the tinsel doesn’t half tickle.
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But sitting up here at the top of the tree
Has its compensations.
For I can watch the folk prepare
For the festive celebrations.
On Christmas Eve, they gather round
To hear the Christmas story;
Of the time when an Angel just like me
Had his moment of Glory.
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Then I hold up my head,
spread my wings high and wide,
So they almost touch the ceiling.
And then with a great big smile on my face
I radiate that true Christmas feeling.
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