The solid sheets of snow descend,
a gentle, endless, magnificent flow,
From the sky and heaven up above
to blanket the motionless town below.

No sound is heard throughout the town,
Christmas bells are not heard ringing,
Merry laughing children do not abound,
And faceless carolers are not out singing.

The deer in the forest are huddled close,
Snuggling together for lack of heat,
Their voices are lost behind their fears
Of dying in cold from warmth seen sweet.

The lights are out, the electricity’s gone,
And the wind has blown out all the wicks,
The sun has hidden behind the clouds;
all that’s left is darkness’ silent tricks.

Santa rides his wooden sleigh above it all,
Pulled by reindeer fast and full of praise,
Not seeing the slumbering town below,
For it’s obscured by mists of cloudy haze.

The children wake up the following morn,
Expecting beneath their trees many a gift,
but Santa had not heard their silent town,
and passed by, moving to the next place swift.