Evergreen stands in my living room

tipping his hat, or rather golden star,

my way each night I light

his memory laden branches.

I’ve seen this tree before, although

he’s new. Each year he’s new again,

subtle changes in color and depth, but

resemblance strikes.

Tearful stains like bunting,

wrap around each memory;

cookie ornaments painted

by chubby fingers.

They’re brittle and break the more

my family grows. The more

they move away. But you—

Evergreen, I remember.

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