My second attempt at poetry, one long Saturday afternoon in December.
I am a soldier in a suit of white and red,
I hang by a ribbon coming out of my head,
One month of the year I come out of my den,
Along with many of the other little men.
All around is the scent of sweet Christmas spice,
We sit in the branches of the pine tree so nice,
And when the evening comes and our whole forest lights,
We all come to life at the welcoming sight.
We must report to our Captain, of whom I’m afraid,
What is our mission? Will we spy? Do a raid?
Softly, so softly, we creep in the gloom,
Away from the bright and dazzling room.
It's quiet and cool with the needles and lights,
It's dark and spookish in the inky black night.
Here is a clearing, with a high, soaring roof,
In the centre's my Captain, important, aloof.
A light is beside him, its pale icy blue tones
Send a shiver like winter right down to my bones.
I hail him, he answers, I give my report,
My task is a hard one of the back-breaking sort.
Tonight we’ll climb down to the base of the tree;
The nutcracker Ferdy, my drummer, and me.
Our mission is simple: an angel we’ll rescue
A ball fell last week, and we’re scared she’ll go too!
I go find my friend, ‘cause he's still in his house.
He is big: he cracks nuts that are large as a mouse.
Ferdy fights many battles; fights them all without fear,
He’s saved many ornaments throughout his career.
I tell him our task, and he's glad that I called.
We all love the angels; and we can’t let her fall.
It's a minute or two to prepare to descend,
Ferdy gets the rope ladders, I get the men.
We start on our journey, each helps the other out,
For each step of the way we’re in danger, no doubt.
We near the bottom, Hark! A pitiful cry,
The angel’s in danger, into action we fly.
I hold the rope ladder, and down Ferdy goes,
The angel’s a pretty one: green, blue and rose.
He reaches and grabs for her hook: but Alas!
He slips and he falls, there's a tinkle of glass.
Ferdy and Julia have a horrible fate
They fell from the tree on that cold winter night.
I stood where I was for a moment or two,
Then went back to report. What more could I do?
The Christmas tree mourned for our lost and brave friends,
But then we went on, for sorrows have their ends.
And now they're not forgotten, nor will they be,
Through time they'll be the heroes of our Christmas tree!