Goodwill blanketed the city
As the holiday day drew near.
On the busy street, people stopped to greet
With tidings of Christmas cheer.
Lampposts trimmed with Christmas lights
Gave a warming golden glow,
That reflected in the icy streets
And the shop windows below.
A giant tree in the city square
Was trimmed in red and green.
And ringing bells,
And scrumptious smells,
Helped punctuate the scene.
Every face was smiling.
It was a time of peace and joy
For everyone on the avenue
Except one downhearted boy.
He was new here in the city.
He was country bred and grown.
He missed the farm
And the country charm.
He had never felt more alone.
But the crops had failed last harvest.
His family’s farm was sold,
And they moved to the city to find work
— At least that was what he was told.
As a country boy in the city
He felt like hayseed stuck in a vase.
He was cordial and bright,
But try as he might
He always felt out of place.
He tried making new friends in the city,
But they didn’t do the things he likes.
He prefers skating on ponds instead of rinks,
And riding horses instead of bikes.
He was homesick for the country
The old farmhouse painted white.
Sometimes he’d long
For the crickets song
That lulled him to sleep at night.
Looking out the apartment window
He just couldn’t imagine why
He should settle for a slice of sunset
Instead of the boundless evening sky.
That’s what he was thinking this very night
Waiting for his folks to arrive —
A lone silhouette in the window frame.
The time was closer to six than to five.
When from the crowded street his folks emerged
With a box both awkward and tall.
He raced to the door,
Then to the first floor
And met them in the entrance hall.
“What have you got?” the young boy asked
With a bit of a glint in his eyes.
“Holiday spirit,” his father replied.
“And we brought home a surprise!”
“Help me get it upstairs,” said his father.
They picked up the box from the floor.
“Wait ‘till you see!
It’s a new Christmas tree —
Like you never have seen before.”
The boy helped out as he was asked,
But curiosity furrowed his brow.
You can’t fit a tree in a cardboard box
Or if you could – he didn’t know how.
His dad was right when they opened the box –
It was a sight like he never had seen.
There were instructions and charts,
And tree branches and parts,
And they all were silver – not green!
“It’s a modern tree for our city life,”
Said his dad in hopes to appease.
But the tree wasn’t real, and it wasn’t green
And the boy’s heart sunk to his knees.
“We aren’t going to get an evergreen tree?”
Asked the boy, caught up reminiscing.
One thing was true,
He’d had too much of new.
Familiar was what he was missing.
“Let’s set the tree up and give it a chance,”
Said his mom, “and I think you’ll agree it
Truly is festive – albeit unique.
You may like it more once you see it.”
They assembled the thing limb by limb.
When it took the shape of a tree at last,
They hung bulbs and spheres
That had hung for years
On their trees of Christmases past.
There was a special lamp with a colored wheel
That had wedges of red, green and blue.
As the wheel turned, the tree was awash
In a shifting and shimmering hue.
The aluminum branches danced in the light
Casting shadows against the wall.
The magic effect
Echoed to project
On the ceiling and into the hall.
“There now,” said his mom, admiring the work.
“Have you ever seen such a Christmas tree?”
“No,” the boy answered, then under his breath,
“It doesn’t look like Christmas to me.”
Then one night just before Christmas
(You know how time at the holidays races)
He thought he heard,
“May I have a word?”
And it came from the tree – of all places.
Startled, he turned on the color wheel lamp,
Though he wasn’t sure of his reason.
“If you are not careful you’re going to miss
All the joy of the holiday season.”
Yes, the words came from the silver tree.
The boy was struck more by awe than by fear.
“Everything is okay,
I’ve just something to say,
And magic happens this time of year.”
“I know I’m a different Christmas tree,
But the differences are what make me me.
For people the same holds true.
It’s your differences that make you you.”
“Everyone is special in their way.
In you’re way you’re special too.
When you appreciate
What makes others great
They just may do the same for you.”
And then, for the first time ever
The boy saw Christmas in the tree.
And beauty in the city streets.
And hope for friendships yet to be.
He was joyful all through Christmas,
And he stayed joyful through his days.
From his bed that spring
As he heard crickets sing,
He was at peace with big city ways.
Fabletime 