Relinquishing the Tree

The funniest thing
just happened to me
when my husband, Beau,
decorated our tree.

He said he could do it,
it would be such a treat,
and I gave in to him—
since he offered so sweet.

He got out the boxes
I’d carefully stored,
and told me to relax,
try just to look bored.

I’d shopped, and I’d baked,
wrapped presents galore,
tramped thru’ deep snow
not missing a store.

I guess he felt guilty,
as sometimes he should—
I thought, Ok, fine,
this might do him some good.

I poured a nice wine,
and sat on the couch.
He just got the tree up—
when it fell, he screamed, "Ouch!"

I started to laugh—
it was all I could do
with Beau under the tree,
his legs all askew.

He got it back up,
and then came the lights—
untangling them
could take him all night.

He wound strings across,
and around he did go,
with them not too even,
but I didn’t mind so.

I laughed once again,
when I saw the fine mess
he made with the garland
tho’ trying his best.

Then came the bulbs—
pouring my second wine,
I snuggled into the couch
for a laughing good time.

Large bulbs on top
small on the bottom—
I thought I would die
when he said, “There, I got ‘em!”

By now, Beau was tiring—
just ornaments to go,
and he tried to hang each
quite gently, and slow.

For the fun would be over
if those heirlooms he broke—
he knew I’d be angry,
and his neck I would choke.

But when it was finished,
Beau turned the lights on,
and we both got the giggles—
thought we’d laugh until dawn.

We kept it thru’ Christmas
in it’s crooked red stand—
and some of our guests
even said it looked grand.

And, for all the sweet gestures
Beau made on that night
trying to help,
tho’ the tree was a sight,

I’d not trade one moment—
those memories were great,
and next year at this time,
we’ll have another—Tree Date!