I remember when you and I would dress
this Christmas tree with popsicle stick reindeer
and grandma’s bells, all ornaments
three branches from the bottom—
exactly your reach.
With pigtails bobbing,
you’d sing, “Mommy, isn’t it pretty? Isn’t it pretty?”
Dancing from ornament box to tree,
displaying your latest grade-school creation
in the middle of your three foot circular world.
Your world is higher, wider now
no longer perfectly round. Your bobbed hair swings
with each “Mom, remember this? Remember this?”
This tree full of memories,
With its popsicle stick reindeer and grandma’s bells.
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