How Could I Deny?
(The Tree Trimming Waltz)
Her cascading curls and cherub cheeks darted in front of Maury Povich’s face.
The giggling child in her eye betrayed her intentions before she ever uttered,
“Let’s put up the tree!â€
How could I deny?
Drummer boy ballads and leaping lords tinged the air.
The four and a half foot tree stood atop an end table
stark and bare.
Trunks and tubs of treasured trinkets appeared.
Glowing angels whispered blessings as they fluttered to look
at the blankets of snow outside the window,
leaving just enough room for Rudolph’s red nose.
A ruckus broke out between hissing Hallmark Mischievous Kittens
and a whinnying unicorn made by nimble little 3rd grade fingers.
Avoiding the fray, I quietly sipped spicy nog
while setting fire to Santa’s beer belly atop the TV cabinet.
His flickering grin chided me for ever implying he was a lush.
A whirlwind of grabbing, placing, primping, adjusting, rearranging and changing
led to hundreds of gleeful eyes peeking through evergreen branches
and rainbow bulb fences.
Ancient clay memories and porcelain dolls
swayed over long lost loved ones and candy colored balls.
Silver clouds of tinsel showered down in shiny flumes.
Hailstorms of beaded garland gently pelted
and nuzzled up next to peppermint hooks just hanging around.
Now the boxes are gone and the lights are turned low.
Nat King Cole’s singing of sleigh bells and snow.
Santa’s belly is still flickering and the treasure laden tree
is a neon menagerie of packrat pride.
We lay on the couch, her curls tickling my neck.
The cups of cider on the coffee table have long since cooled.
The cat is a tightly bound lump of slumbering fur
next to secretive presents topped with floppy bows.
My lids are sliding like dime store shutters.
My leg, numb timber silently being sawed.
I started to rise, but she wasn’t done with her pillow quite yet.
“Just one more song…â€, her pouting lips pleaded.
How could I deny?
A labor of love for my wife on this Holiday Season
Semantic
12/22/05