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Moonbeams linger on the ledge,
The music’s sweet, the fire is warm,
Christmas is done.

The house is restored to order
though the tree is a little worse
for wear, 

Here and there
a bit of tinsel hangs haphazardly
from somewhere it doesn’t belong.

Soon  New Year’s Eve
will usher in
a new beginning. 

Fleet footed Father Time
allows us
these moments of bliss.

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