You need pliers for those wings.

Your Christmas Eve brings animate smiles and lovely aromas,
but the eve surrenders to those who no longer apply
and would rather sit and ponder.
In their gaze a beautiful sadness,
with their broken smile
wishing to gladden.
Alas, you lose hearts
and you lose your own.
deep in thought, revisiting...
this must stop.
limbs attached, roof, and aroma
souls are gone, wine in hand,
thoughts and illusions.
All it is a day, to reminisce
and quietly sink
in beautiful sadness.

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