The iridescent bulb shines like a lightning bug.
Undulating back and forth, a mirage is what I see.
It is a glowing lamp, guiding me to the Christmas tree
The bulb, like dew on a blade of grass,
Looks slippery as it hangs precariously.
A shiny husk, dipped in glittery, glamorous gold--
It could be a fairy house,
Or Cinderella's round carriage
But to me, it is Christmas love
Wrapped in glitter paint and glass.
Impossible to me.
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