Two different types of air,
But both I call home;
With long car rides,
and Christmas cheer everywhere;
Snow on the ground,
Ice on the lake,
But none in this other town;
A Christmas tree in every house,
On every street galore;
The Christmas chaos ensues as we try to find our tree,
When we find our perfect one,
We are filled with so much glee;
Getting home past the Sledding Hill,
Past the homes filled with light,
In the last hours of the day,
Until we get home;
We get it through the doorway,
This gigantic tree we now have;
Put it on the stand,
Up it goes,
Into the heavens,
Past even God’s hands;
We gaze at this magnificent tree,
That we have spent time in toil;
To gaze back on our success,
I can truly only say for my family,
That I am truly blessed...

-A