Tree Toys

There's treasure, somewhere,

Of lost ones, long cherished,

From  generations

Of christmassings together.

Fragile fragments for many a tree,

Their memories are lost in the loft.

So I've started again.

And if nobody's young enough,


To fight over who hangs what,

Unwrapping the annual favourites,

We still shop like children

For new ones instead.

Two baubles a year we allow,

A fresh collection

To follow the old somehow.














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