The Christmas Journey

The highway stretched, a ribbon veiled in frost,

Its curves alive with silver moonlight’s grace.

Each mile marked dreams of what was won, then lost,

Yet hope glowed bright within this endless space.

The engine hummed a hymn of holiday,

Its cadence steady, soothing winter’s chill.

Above, the stars became a grand ballet,

Their light a map to guide the wandering will.

Then came the turn—a sight both fierce and sweet:

A town adorned in splendor, soft and low.

Candles in windows, carols on the street,

Each voice a spark to warm December’s glow.

I felt the pull, the magic drawing near,

A kind embrace that eased my heart anew.

Christmas, I learned, lives not in gifts or cheer,

But in the journey—every road feels true.