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One silent night,
when all was still,
in snowfall soft,
I walked Church Hill.
Bathed in glow of
lamplight shining,
shone Tudor homes
with ivy twining.
The cedar boughs
hung low with snow,
were lit with lights
that made them glow.
The air was sweet
and fresh to breathe,
each door was hung
with Christmas wreath.
Gray plumes of smoke
rose in the air,
from homes of olde
down lane way fair.
A Hallmark scene,
serene and lush,
this Christmas Eve
of calming hush.
One silent night,
when all was still,
in snowfall soft,
I walked Church Hill.
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