Tis the night before Christmas, when all through the room,
The firelight flickered with a soft, golden bloom.
Blankets were piled high, mugs warmed every hand,
And dreams drifted gently, just as they’d planned.
The tree stood aglow with its tinsel and cheer,
Guarding old memories and hope for next year.
A hush settled in, sweet and tender and deep,
The kind that reminds even worries to sleep.
Outside, the stars sparkled like secrets well-kept,
While inside, tired hearts finally rested and slept.