βTis the night before Christmas,
and luck drifts softly through the air.
The fire crackles low.
Snow gathers its courage outside.
A shadow crosses the moon.
Sleigh bells whisper, not ring.
Santa pauses above your roof,
checking his listβthen smiling.
He leaves behind something unseen:
a spark of luck,
a warmer hope,
a promise that tonight favors the brave.
Stars blink knowingly.
The night keeps its secret.
Morning will feel different.
Marry Christmas π
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