Silent night on a hill,
Christmas eve and I’m still;
Motionlessly waiting for peace,
Quietly in the few minutes
before the holiday sunrise.
The Christmas spirit exists
in a few ticks, it’s there and gone,
while consumed sleepers' sleep.
The street-stained snow gets covered again,
greeted with a new coat.
Solitarily that feeling erupts,
That tranquil beauty materializes,
taking hold to warm a few lucky hearts.
Until that boisterous morning unwraps itself,
and that stillness disappears
regrettably lost in reality for another year.
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