The Little Christmas Tree
by Bob Lazzar-Atwood

A happy little Christmas tree
Stood bravely in the cold,
And prayed to some nice family
It one day would be sold.

It dreamed of all the pretty lights
They’d string around its limbs,
And of the warm and quiet nights
They’d fill with Christmas hymns.

It pictured all the loving smiles
On each and every face,
And all the brightly colored piles
Of gifts around its base.

So every day the little tree
Would stretch its trunk up high,
And hold its limbs out gracefully
As people passed it by.

And lots of people loved the tree
And stopped to say hello,
But most of them would later leave
With larger trees in tow.

With Christmas just a week away
The rush for trees was on,
They sold them faster every day
’til most of them were gone.

But not the little Christmas tree
It stayed upon the lot,
And when it closed on Christmas Eve
It still had not been bought.

With heavy heart and weary limbs
The tree began to weep,
And as the day grew cold and dim
It cried itself to sleep.

That night an angel passing by
Took pity on the tree,
And flew it swiftly though the sky
To find a family.

She left it by a poor man’s door
And knocked so he could hear,
She knew that he could not afford
A Christmas tree that year.

On Christmas Day the tree awoke
To loud and joyous noise,
It saw the smiles of happy folks
And laughing girls and boys.

Its limbs were draped with popcorn strings
And ribbons tied in bows,
And up on top with tinfoil wings
And angel proudly posed.

No treasure to be found on Earth
Could match the little tree’s,
For none could be of greater worth
than love and family.

And way up high above the clouds
Where only angels roam,
A light was shining brighter now,
The tree had found a home.

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