Bough-Dangles
We spruce our spruces thoroughly,
Bedecking ev’ry inch of tree
With tinsel boas, bauble bling,
And fairy-lights by endless string.
And then we push it, fruits and all,
Abruptly up against the wall –
A lonely corner evergreen
Where half the dressings can’t be seen.
The lights at least from round the back,
Like glow-works pilfering a snack,
Can still be glimpsed-on now-and-then
From deep within their needle den.
But other trinkets pine away,
Unnoticed all the holiday,
Till hands come questing for the gains
Of the few remaining candy canes.
Rhyming Couplets 