On the eve of Noël, in Edward's old home, Where laughter and cheer sparked the midnight's foam, Not a soul found rest in the house aglow, Not even the louse, in an endless woe. The walls hummed soft with whispers and dreams, As stars stitched tales with their silvery seams. The clock ticked softly in time's gentle dance, While the moon wove shadows in an elfin trance. The stockings hung high, a promise anew, Echoed of wishes and secrets they knew. The tree stood adorned with a glittering grace, Its baubles reflecting joy's tender embrace. In every heart, hope's ember brightened the air, In Charis Edward's realm, spun with love and care. For once in a spell, in this magical state, The night whispered softly: "Let wonder await."