As she pinches the bow tighter,
the smile of hers gets brighter,
“It came from the heart,”
she whispers against the music.
The scent of clove and pine,
the taste of cheer and chime.
It is near imaginary to see
just what is waiting for all ahead.
The warmth of sweater and lights,
Beneficence without spite,
the power of festivity enlightens,
until new beginnings commence.
Oh, the cycle of celebratory sovereignty,
holiday spirit and commodity,
I wish to all the magnanimous recess,
of altruism and jubilee.