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Description
On the fourteenth of December's frosty breath,
The Orphan crafts, in quiet depth.
Within a vehicle, her sheltered frame,
She conjures Christmas, in hope's flame.

The world outside may chill the bone,
But in her heart, warmth has grown.
With careful hands, she shapes a star,
A symbol of survival, from afar.

Her tiny fingers work with care,
Creating beauty from despair.
Around her, the world's silent, still,
Yet she finds joy, a testament of will.

The decorations hang, a festive sight,
Against the backdrop of winter's white.
In this post-apocalyptic serene,
The Orphan weaves her Christmas dream.

For in each crafted ornament's gleam,
Lies the strength of a future unseen.
On December's fourteenth, behind the gate,
The Orphan's spirit, ever great.

Description
On the fourteenth of December's frosty breath,
The Orphan crafts, in quiet depth.
Within a vehicle, her sheltered frame,
She conjures Christmas, in hope's flame.

The world outside may chill the bone,
But in her heart, warmth has grown.
With careful hands, she shapes a star,
A symbol of survival, from afar.

Her tiny fingers work with care,
Creating beauty from despair.
Around her, the world's silent, still,
Yet she finds joy, a testament of will.

The decorations hang, a festive sight,
Against the backdrop of winter's white.
In this post-apocalyptic serene,
The Orphan weaves her Christmas dream.

For in each crafted ornament's gleam,
Lies the strength of a future unseen.
On December's fourteenth, behind the gate,
The Orphan's spirit, ever great.