A soliloquy from your discarded Christmas tree.  

Bejewelled and adored for 12 days, the centre of a family. Now jettisoned like rubbish amongst the black bags. I was led on and betrayed. Used once and thrown away. I had roots, you took them away. I had beautiful green needles, taught and tingly. You covered my beauty in kitsch tinsel and golden balls. I lost myself. I took on a new mantle, I became a trophy, an object.

It had started off so well. You unwrapped me, cutting the netting delicately so as not to harm my needles. You sprayed me and watered my base and when my branches spread out I was admired. My perfect shape the subject of attentive admiration. My pine frgrance filled your room and when my lights were switched on, my aura was resplendent. My ornaments and tinsel were spread around my form. To cap it all, you crowned me with a star on my peak.

If there was paradise, this was it. The adulation. The good life. For the first time I was warm.

My life started out in a field full of sibling saplings. I grew for 10 years. Imagine, 10 years growth just for 12 days. We waited jealously to be 10, to be taken away for none knew our fate.All we knew is that we’d be adored one fine day.

The new year arrived. The merriment stopped. The eating, the drinking ended. On the first day of year no one woke till late and my lights weren’t switched on. The clues were there.  My needles started to dry and fall and you drank glasses of water on New Year’s Day and you forgot to water me.

Nothing is permanent. Love is transient. My fall from grace was rapid. I was derobed, my ornamentation, golden balls removed and the tinsel that once caressed my arms like feathered boas were wound up and boxed away, no doubt for my successor who is growing with hope for 9 years in a field, my successor who will meet the same ignominious fate as mine in precisely 12 moons.

I was unclothed and you me pushed through a window to the street in the dark. Alone on the cold pavement. My fallen pine needles were swept up with phorensic precision. There is no more evidence.

You just walk passed me now as if nothing ever happened between us. You didn’t even look. What a difference a few days back in the office makes? We had good times you know or have you forgotten? Too busy with your bags of fruit for your January detox and your gym membership to notice me on the ground.

Christmas trees have feelings you know. There’s lots of us on the streets, we fell for your lies. That a Christmas tree was for life. No, a Christmas tree is for Christmas not for life.

Remember this of me as I am swept up in to a crusher. I was once young and beautiful. I lived and was loved. And all will, like me, pass.

The distant angry growl of the municipal bin men have already started. Now there is nothing, I will become dust.

My pine fragrance lingers.


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