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Home for the Holidays
Through silver mist and drifting snow,
A ghost glides soft where cold winds blow.
His lantern gleams — a pale moon’s spark,
Guiding him home through forests dark.
Within his arms, his black cat purrs,
Her eyes like stars, her tail a blur.
Together they climb where memories stay,
To the mountain mansion, worn and gray.
No hearth burns there, no laughter rings —
Yet peace, like snow, on silence clings.
For even spirits find their way,
Home for the holidays.