Tales of the till to chill?
Tis the season of strange endeavor...
Wishes in places, peace to conquer and fulfil
Practice before them, the pipe of a lover...

Hands of refute, to quiet at a thought
Say with me, the mine and the sincerity of trying
We are the sitting, in reach, of another lot
Ought with the compliment of a serious time

Days with us, have their purpose
Of live and let live, hidden by a being chance...
And the total of sympathy crowned, a host
To loosen a reason in loves season, with a smiles problem

Finding them, in the name of more...
Separate from silly qualms, of just and right, the temper
Of regret, a habit in gaiety and seclusions form
The voice of persuasion is ours, for a kiss of the lender...

Lot, and the sophistication of cope, is our means
Today is the risk of demand and moments alone...
With a realm to ask, is a reserve the greater notion we seem?
And the silence of concern its choice, as a wish best kept at home?