How a tree must feel the day after Christmas.
**************

Tree on December 26th
by Sandra S. Corona

I once was loved
but now am tossed
was decorated--
decayed, have moss
thrown in the woods
strange neighborhoods.

My java ’s sap
from my own tap
now designated
somebody’s scrap.
I have been trashed
(others turn hash).

Don’t cry ‘mommy’
(preceded me)
parents perished;
we are called ‘tree.’
On my dimple
is a pimple.

No! Ornament
scratched, discontent,
Once stood skirted--
save your comment!
I was cut down
am now profound.

My ‘ho-ho-ho’
was Christmas glow--
now has ended.
Can’t feel my toe!
Sleepily go
with ‘ho-ho-ho’s.’