Samridhi Girdhar/The Baron

The multicolour lights twinkle aglow 

Cutting through the murky night 

With grass covered by silver snow 

The stars begin to shine bright 

Cocoa heats frozen hands 

As bells start to sound 

There is no rush, no plans 

Even when the park becomes snowbound 

Great pine trees provide retreat 

From the furious flurry above 

Yet the blizzard falls neat 

Respecting the flight of the dove