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Description
On December’s eighth, a gate swings wide,
To where the Orphan does abide.
A child alone in snow's embrace,
With hope alive in her tender face.

She sits amidst a world so stark,
Penning wishes in the dark.
A list for Christmas, heartfelt, true,
For dreams in a world askew.

The snowflakes fall, a silent choir,
Around her, the ruins of desire.
Yet in her eyes, the season's flame,
Burns bright, untouched, untamed.

Her bat, her shield, her courage bold,
Against a world so dark and cold.
But now she writes, with innocence,
A wish, a plea, a Christmas sense.

In the advent scene so bittersweet,
The Orphan’s heart refuses defeat.
For in this post-apocalyptic land,
She holds Christmas in her tiny hand.

Description
On December’s eighth, a gate swings wide,
To where the Orphan does abide.
A child alone in snow's embrace,
With hope alive in her tender face.

She sits amidst a world so stark,
Penning wishes in the dark.
A list for Christmas, heartfelt, true,
For dreams in a world askew.

The snowflakes fall, a silent choir,
Around her, the ruins of desire.
Yet in her eyes, the season's flame,
Burns bright, untouched, untamed.

Her bat, her shield, her courage bold,
Against a world so dark and cold.
But now she writes, with innocence,
A wish, a plea, a Christmas sense.

In the advent scene so bittersweet,
The Orphan’s heart refuses defeat.
For in this post-apocalyptic land,
She holds Christmas in her tiny hand.