Short Lived Poem by Ima Ryma

I came as an invited guest
Into the home of folks who were
In a celebratory quest.
I was front and center for sure.
By the front window I did sit,
Adorned in light and bulb and strand.
I certainly did glow when lit.
Thirst quenched from water in my stand.
But then there came the time that I
No longer was a welcome one.
Stripped bare, my needles I did cry.
My usefulness for them was done.

So many others like me be,
This year's discarded Christmas tree.