Consorting songs in a harmony of the yuletides kind.
Warm fire, marsh mellows, and joy all around.
White crystals, snow people, and powder on the ground.
Loquacious kins collectively weaving memories abound.
Unwrapped dreams, under the tree, ribbons cut.
Milk and cookies, consumed by a distant silhouette.
Was it 4, was it 6, was it 8 rein deers?
Before I realized, I was in a mellifluous spell.
Red and white, furry face, so diaphanous.
He had a list of some sort and his ho ho hos.
I hung, but not one, two socks all for me.
Found a lump of coal in one and another some twinkle dust!
The fat man seemed to have a humor of his own.
Cause I was naughty, I was nice, living life on my own.
The coal was meant to keep my inner fire burning red.
The twinkle dust is a reminder of the love that we must spread.