Felicity

My fantasy Christmas eve.

Felicity

An age-old town sleeps under a blanket of snow

That floats through the bitter cold air,

Covering groves of pine trees that form a shadowy silhouette

Behind the brick buildings of main street,

Topped by a layer of fresh snow on the rooftops.

The quiet street has yet to be cleared,

And streetlights illuminate sparkling storefronts

Whose frosty windows are lined with Christmas lights

That twinkle like the stars in a summer night’s sky.

The dark eyes of a snowman peer into a living room window,

And see a family gathered around the hearth telling holiday stories.

The scent of warm apple cider and cinnamon wafts through the room,

 Encircling the Christmas tree shimmering with ornaments and garlands.

As the night grows old the family sleeps but the fire remains kindled;

Glowing embers support the charred wood. The dying flames flicker,

Casting long changing shadows on the walls of the dimly lit room.

Smoke rises from the ashes, exiting the chimney in a plume,

Mixing with the snowflakes that continue to fall.

Author's Note

Any suggestions or comments? Thanks!