The Quiet Magic We Call Christmas

Christmas tiptoes in, wearing jingling socks,
Tripping over worries, unlocking old locks.
It doesn’t knock loudly or shout, “I’m here!”
It whispers, “Slow down… hold someone dear.”

It isn’t about lights that compete with the stars,
Or shopping lists longer than traffic jams are.
Christmas is that pause between doing and being,
Where hearts start feeling what eyes stop seeing.

It teaches us magic without any tricks—
Like how broken smiles still manage to fix.
How forgiveness fits under a slightly bent tree,
And kindness costs nothing but sets spirits free.

“Hope,” says Christmas, “is not wrapped in gold,
It’s folded in hugs and stories retold.”
So we unwrap laughter, slightly overcooked meals,
And find that love multiplies the more that it heals.

It laughs at perfection, spills cocoa on plans,
And reminds tired adults they were once dream-filled fans—
Of snowmen with souls and stars that would listen,
Back when wishes felt closer and joy felt christened.

Christmas doesn’t ask if your year was neat,
It simply offers a chair and says, “Come, sit.”
Because the real gift—quiet, stubborn, and true—
Is remembering goodness still lives… in me and in you.

✨ Thought to ponder:
If Christmas stayed in your heart all year long,
what kind of world would your kindness belong to?