When December Whispers Home

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.

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