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 Writer and Poet. Her poetry has recently appeared in Crannog Magazine, Nutshells and Nuggets, And Other Poems, Ink Sweat and Tears and The Seventh Quarry.Flash Fiction and short stories have featured in FlashFlood, Metazen, Number Eleven and The Bohemyth. Shortlists have included: Flash Mob 2013, Blog Awards Ireland and 99 Fiction.K. S. Moore has read her poetry at Swansea's Dylan Thomas Festival and at Waterford Writers' Weekend. She is the founder and facilitator of Waterford's 'Write Club' and occasionally leads workshops on poetry and short fiction.

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