It is not the unwrapping of trinkets.
It is an unveiling of cherished times.
Memories, crystalised in glass and glitter
long dormant, now fresh
With new discovery.
Curve and colour released from winding cloths;
Buried treasure rediscovered.
It is not a tree, but a pennant.
Colours nailed to the mast, to glorify
another year here, despite trials
tribulations and needlings.
As grown hands guide
young ones, all
Copyright Tom Tide 2016