’Twas the night before Christmas, tucked warm from the cold,
Inside a French bakery, glowing in gold.
The oven hummed softly, baguettes lined in rows,
And cinnamon, butter, and sugar rose.
Croissants slept lightly, dusted with snow—
Or flour, perhaps, in the bakery’s glow.
When bells gently chimed and laughter drew near,
Christmas had arrived… with warmth, bread, and cheer.
stake : wagort