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When the Day Ends
January 19, 2012
We know her only as the Christmas tree.
The one that decorates
and prepares, for the arrival of Santa Clause.
Go back to Fall; where the tears roll down blossomless cones.
‘Why do you cry?’ chirps a bird, ‘I cry because I am’ says she.
Once a beautiful nymph, now a flowerless tree.
Not her decision, but her escape from Pan.
‘I cry because I am plain, not even gifted with a single bloom, but armed with hard cones.
Cursed to shine only once a year, wretchedly long’s the year. And when that day ends… I die.‘
© Chris G., Phoenix, AZ
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This poem is about the post-events of Pity which I did not find anywhere but wrote myself.
Fun Fact- Pity means fir tree in Greek.