Unwanted

The kiosks selling Christmas trees
Shut down on Christmas eve
With many evergreens unsold,
Much more than you’d believe.

The workers start dismantling
Their temporary bowers;
Not many customers come by
In these remaining hours.

The trees nobody wanted
Get wrapped up and placed in piles.
They’ll never showcase ornaments
Or manufacture smiles.

But bargain hunters may pop up
To commandeer a tree
Which, after all the sellers split,
Is obviously free.

Not every fir or spruce on hand
Will find a welcome home
And so I will acknowledge them
Right here, within my poem.