Whispers of a Winter Gift
In Lumen’s streets, where snowflakes dance,
And lights of Christmas flicker, glance,
A gift is sent with hands unknown,
To warm the heart, when cold winds moan.
The city hums with joy and cheer,
But whispers rise—what gift is dear?
A thought, a trinket, something grand?
Or love wrapped gently, hand in hand?
Through bustling shops and markets bright,
Aurelia wanders, gripped by plight.
She sees the wealth, the gold, the gleam,
Yet feels the weight of winter’s dream.
A storm within, her heart unsure,
What gift to give that feels so pure?
Until she spies an elder’s art,
Small wooden hands that touch her heart.
No gilded box, no lavish string,
Just simple love in humble things.
A carved-out figure, soft with care,
A symbol meant for those who dare.
She knocks upon the door that night,
A boy with eyes so wide, so bright,
He cradles joy that cannot be bought,
A warmth far deeper than she thought.
The gift was never meant for gold,
But for the hearts that winter holds.
A silent gift, no cost, no pride,
Just love that lingers deep inside.
Now Lumen glows in softer light,
The people see with clearer sight,
That kindness shines beyond the price,
And warms the world like fire, twice.
By: Manav Kodnani
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