The evening wears a coat of white, And stars awaken one by one. The moon is resting on the roofs, While winter waits beyond the sun. A little lamp beside the door Spills golden light across the snow. It seems to say, “Come in and stay,” To every lonely soul below. The kitchen smells of gingerbread, Of oranges and something sweet. Old memories return again With every footstep in the street. A Christmas tree stands quietly, Its branches dressed in red and gold. Beneath it lie a few small gifts, But love is what the room can hold. We gather close and share our stories, Some bring laughter, some bring tears. For Christmas has a gentle way Of making strangers disappear. And when the final candle fades And silence settles through the night, We take a little Christmas warmth And carry it into the light.
December hangs its silver light Upon the roofs at close of night, And somewhere past the frosted trees, A bell is carried by the breeze. The streets grow soft beneath the snow, While little windows start to glow. A candle trembles, warm and small, Like hope returning after all. Inside, the room smells sweet and bright, With cinnamon and candlelight. Old songs are drifting through the air, And laughter finds a waiting chair. We wrap our wishes, one by one, Beneath the branches, red and green. Some gifts are things that hands can hold, Some are worth far more than gold. A Christmas star above the town Seems to remind us, looking down: That even when the year feels long, The heart can still remember song. So let the winter winds appear, Let midnight frost the coming year. For Christmas brings a quiet flame— A little warmth, a little faith, And love that calls us home again.