The art, adventures, wit (or lack thereof), verse, ramblings, lyrics, stories, rants & raves of Christopher R. Bakunas
Thursday, December 26, 2013
Tinsel, Tinsel
My Mother was a depression era child
Which meant nothing in our home was ever thrown out
Until it was completely, utterly, undoubtedly
Used up, worn out, beyond repair
Christmas, we carefully peeled tape from our presents
And delicately removed the wrapping paper
Which my Mother would flatten out in order to save it
For the next year's presents
The week after Christmas was always spent
Carefully removing single strands of tinsel from the tree
And placing them in between the folds of a newspaper
So they could be used again to decorate next years tree
The first Christmas I celebrated on my own
I tore the wrapping paper off my presents with abandon
And when it came time to take down the tree
I removed the lights and all of the ornaments
But I left the tinsel on
When I tossed it into the dumpster
I don't even buy tinsel anymore
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