The snow of change floats over me
like a scrim of dressed white breeze.
Dancing in the air, nuance in grace
wrapping my soul in a tight embrace.
Strolling and crunching on fresh snow powder
upon an old shop of magick, its candles flicker.

I pin my nose onto the cold window
in hopes to find the perfect gift bestow.
Naught just of plain games nor of large monies
but of a simple writing utensil, my son fancies.
Stepping inside the myth, an old man bellows
none other but the red suited, bearded fellow.

“A thousand miles and more, hast thou travelled
searching a majestic wonder that thou wish acquire.”
“‘Tis naught of magical pencil that thou require
but of a wielder of artistic marvel that thou already acquired.”

Author: Michael Soo
Date: December 24th, 2007

(Image photographed a week ago at The Vault)