The Christmas Tree

He was tall,laden with specks of grey,
in hair and in facial contours.
Green with envy,turned people,
and he turned pine green with joy.
He was the strength of his family,
the roots dug deep into psyche,
with soil of responsibility.
Year round he bloomed,
He had to bloom,to make family smile…
But at Christmas time,he carved fissures in to himself,
so as to light up all around
The gifts came out from his pockets and the dug holes
were decorated beautifully,
to celebrate the Christmas spirit.
He was the Christmas tree himself.

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About Nalini Srivastava

I am an Indian.I write to let go of myself.It is my catharsis.My biggest inspiration is my son and every passing moment of life.I am a teacher by profession and the way I love to write ,I love to teach.With my one solo poetry book already published "Feminine Musings" hope many more will see the light.

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