It’s time to take down the Christmas decorations, a time that is difficult for some, a relief for others.  I have mixed feelings this year.  I’ve enjoyed Christmas, but having moved house recently, I will be replacing decorations with a few personal touches.  I will finally unpack my ornaments and set them out on a display shelf.  I am looking forward to seeing my china Russian dolls, my wooden animals and wind-up toys – yes, I am a child at heart!  In the meantime, I’ve indulged a sense of melancholy that can descend in the post-Christmas hush, in this poem, simply entitled ‘Tree’.

Tree

I take down the tree,
unwreathe its arms
of tinsel and bauble.
Now it is pure
and green and dark,
a figure without cover.

I ask it questions
of Christmas past.
Who dressed you then?
Who was your angel?

The tree is sullen, has
lost some tufts of plastic fir,
is getting a stoop,
a bend,
a twist.

Next year, I may leave it
propped, against my suitcase,
in the spare room,
let it dream.

K. S. Moore

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K. S. Moore is a Welsh Poet and Writer, based in Ireland. Her poetry has recently appeared in The Stinging Fly, Southword and Crannog.Online magazines: Nutshells and Nuggets, And Other Poems, and Ink Sweat and Tears have also featured poems. Meanwhile, flash fiction and short stories have been published in FlashFlood, Metazen, Number Eleven and The Bohemyth.K. S. Moore has been shortlisted for Flash Mob 2013, Blog Awards Ireland and 99 Fiction. She has performed at Waterford Writers' Weekend, Waterford Winterval and Swansea's Dylan Thomas Festival.

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