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

revel in



Copyright Tom Tide 2016

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