Standing tall and green
Takes pride of place.

Small hands hang precious *****,
Larger hands hang fragile ones,
To appease the critical eye.

Lights twinkle, turned on at twilight
A star adorns the top, a little lopsided
As it is just slightly out of reach to fix.

Boxed and wrapped hopes are piled underneath,
Perfectly presented with a bow
Ready to be torn in the big unveil.

The big day comes and then it goes,
As does each day- significant or not.
The lights do not get turned on now.

The star is more lopsided as the tree droops,
Taking pride of place the yellowing leaves,
Once lush and green, now sully the spirit.

Until, it is discarded on the nature strip.
Just another piece of junk- ready to be replaced.