I wrote this poem a few years ago because my family always teased me about my choice of a Christmas tree. They named them Charlie Brown trees. I still prefer real trees, even though we have used an artificial one for the last few years.

Proud to Be Your Christmas Tree

Nourished by sunshine, rain and dew
From a tiny seedling, I grew and grew
Spreading my branches in forest glade
Providing shelter, warmth and shade.

Then one day 'neath winter's sky
My branches caught a stranger's eye
I stood in silence while sharpened teeth
Swept me from the ground beneath

Soon erected, straight and tall
I stood in contrast by a wall
My branches laden with tinsel bright
With shining bulb and shimmering light.

Though my branches may not be so fair
Some might say they're here and there
But go ahead and touch them, see how they feel
They're not artificial, they are for real

Now smell the fragrance, you just can't find
From an artificial spruce, fir, or pine
Though less than perfect, my branches be
Still I'm proud, I'm your Christmas tree.   Submitted By: NULL