The boxes open with a rustle,
spilling ribbons, lights, and memories.
The tree stands waiting

as we wind our way through ornaments—
each one a tiny story
hung with care.

Garland climbs the banister,
candles warm the windows,
and music hums through the rooms.

By evening, the house glows softly,
as if it, too, remembers
what this season feels like—

hope, warmth,
and a little bit of magic.

Metamorphosis