Discussion fills the air–ah, me!
We’re shopping for a Christmas tree.
There’s the usual annual stir
Which to purchase–pine or fir?
Father wants one slightly smaller;
Sister says a little taller.
“That one’s skinny,” pipes up brother.
“Too few branches.” This from mother.
On height and shape and kind and size
At long, long last, we compromise–
Not so much for tension-easing
As to relieve us–we were freezing.
But hope for early peace is dimmed
By the fact the tree’s untrimmed…
by Ray Romine Wednesday, December 12, 1951
