For our Christmas Tree this year …
we chose a pointy golden star
and we stuck it on the top,
but stars are surprisingly heavy
and ours began to flop.
My older brother laughed and said,
‘Wise men can’t follow that!
‘They won’t know where to find it
‘if it’s stolen by the cat.’
‘You leave our star alone,’ I said, ‘It’s just
‘a little tired. You’d feel the same
‘if every night you stayed awake
‘in case the wise men came.’
Our Mum’s a nurse. She hatched a plan.
‘That star needs help,’ she said,
‘Just hold this splint while I go fetch
the ladders from the shed.’
The topmost branch is stronger now,
All bandaged up and braced
and we’ve the finest star there ever was,
or wise men ever chased.
and we stuck it on the top,
but stars are surprisingly heavy
and ours began to flop.
My older brother laughed and said,
‘Wise men can’t follow that!
‘They won’t know where to find it
‘if it’s stolen by the cat.’
‘You leave our star alone,’ I said, ‘It’s just
‘a little tired. You’d feel the same
‘if every night you stayed awake
‘in case the wise men came.’
Our Mum’s a nurse. She hatched a plan.
‘That star needs help,’ she said,
‘Just hold this splint while I go fetch
the ladders from the shed.’
The topmost branch is stronger now,
All bandaged up and braced
and we’ve the finest star there ever was,
or wise men ever chased.
This poem is copyright (©) Andy Nuttall 2025

About the Writer
Andy Nuttall
Andy grew up in East Lancashire. He lives in the North-East of England where he works in social care. He has a children's poem currently published in Spellbinder Quarterly and has adult work showcased on the Iambapoet platform (Wave Six) curated by the poet Mark Antony Owen. He has appeared in Acumen Journal last year.