The Holly Tree

I remember lying in my bed too scared to move as it's green claws
scraped my window and it's beady red eyes reflected shards of
moonlight. It was worse when the wind blew, her violent scraping and
scratching, surly she would break through one night and take me down to
the roots of Hell, where I would be the Devils guest and I would never
feel the sun on my face again; and I would be at the Devil's pleasure
and bid his will. But its just the holly tree blowing to the wind
that's all, nothing else, she just stands proud and teases me every on
this very Christmas Eve; and I desperately deeply do regret cutting her
down, like I said her green claws scrape my window but how can this be
when she lays bleeding on my wood pile