CEDRIC AND FRANCIS

Cedric was a Cedar, how he wished to be Blue Spruce,

His home was in a hedgerow, alone, quite the recluse.

The tree farm’s fields bursting, with Blue Spruce everywhere,

Each year more went to some child’s home, Cedric just stood there.

Cedric wasn’t very fancy, his branches somewhat thin,

Aroma not quite as strong, needles stuck now and again.

But he had the soul of Christmas, and that fact made him blue,

For Cedric wanted some kid’s love, a thing he’d never knew.

Francis was a farmer’s child, her family tilled the soil,

Winter blew in the lean times, despite dad’s summer toil.

Food put away in pantry, with good shoes upon her feet,

Mom and Dad kept Francis safe from cold, plenty there to eat.

But Papa worked the land, in those cold months squeezed a penny,

Momma put up the food, so for extras, wasn’t any.

Wood was cut, the fire kept them warm, and cozy filled the air,

Despite a home filled with love, Francis felt Christmas wasn’t fair.

They passed out homemade gifts, yet the girl yearned for more,

She wanted a fancy Blue Spruce the family was too poor.

Came a Christmas morning, blinding snow piled high outside,

They bundled warm in blankets, jumped in pickup for a ride.

Drove to nearby hedgerow, where grew a solitary tree,

Cedric stood decked in glory, and they’d brought a child to see!

A star upon his crown, popcorn strings hung all about,

Both felt the love of Christmas, and Blue Spruce they did without.

The years have come and gone, Cedric looks down on Spruce fields below,

Francis comes at Christmas, seeing a past only she could know.

Then sits feeling times gone by, as Yuletide fills the air,

Realizing that special Christmas was really always there.