Tis the night before Christmas not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse; The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there.
The embers glowed warmly, the room bathed in gold,While stories of Christmas were waiting untold.
The children were nestled, all snug in their beds,With sugarplums dancing inside sleepy heads.And out in the stillness, beneath winter’s kiss,
The moonlight lay softly on rooftops of bliss. When suddenly—hark!—on the snow-dusted ground, Came the jingle of bells and a magical sound. Down the chimney he drifted with laughter so light, A twinkle of joy in the hush of the night.
He filled every stocking, then paused with a smile, To linger and listen to the fire for a while.
“Remember,” he whispered, before fading from sight, “That love is the magic of Christmas each night.” Then up through the chimney he vanished from view, Leaving warmth in the hearts of both old souls and new.
So sleep now in peace as the fire softly gleams, For Christmas is born in our hopes and our dreams. And as morning breaks with its bright, gentle light—
Merry Christmas to all
stake: everblaz
