It was the night before Christmas, when all through the house,
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
The fire sofly hummed with a warm, amber glow,
And shadows danced gently, moving slow moving low.Stocings were hung by the chimney with care,
Each one holding wishes, hope stitched in the air.
Outside, winter whisered through pine and through snow,
While inside, the world felt safely aglowI pulled the blanket closer, the room breathing deep,That quiet kind of silence that rocks you to sleep.Then somewhere between dreaming and being awake,The night felt alive—for old magic’s sake.A story, a promise, familiar and true,That joy still finds us, year after year through and through.And wrapped in that warmth, with the fire burning bright,Christmas felt close—soft, gentle, and right. 🎄🔥
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