Strings, musings on - 2

As a small child,
I watched the trees
being cut  
a carpet of green needles
falling down  
My dad said all the trees
were grown to be
cut for Christmas time

Homes, houses all lighted up
Trees were decorated
and Presents stacked
       underneath
All tied up with gaily coloured
strings  

I stopped and
wondered    

Did this show what
Christmas was to be      
Is this what He
wanted the world to do
Make a business of His birth
       and of His death

I shrugged and wondered
Little child I was      and then,      
Then I spied My gifts there,
And forgot all in My
haste to break the
       strings
and open the gifts
        
was I always a child?