All was quiet this wintry night; snow was shimmering in the light. Crystals frolic, play and prance, as if they’re fairies in a dance. Inside the house, walls vibrant with hues, as shadows romp in scenes of muse. Stockings hung by the fire with care for hidden treasures soon to be there. Then in a twirl of a powerful gust, a whirlwind appears of glimmering dust. A sparkle erupts in a dancing fume, spinning and tumbling all about the room. Then silence pulls her blanket tight, glitter vanishes from out of sight. Gifts so desired are left by the tree, love and joy, goodwill toward thee.
Copyright December 2003 - Emerson Sollars Posted as an unpublished work
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