Fox Winning Entry

Boreal sat on her icy throne,
Frozen tears on her crown adorned,
Staring coldly at the festive scene,
Below her palace this Mistmas Eve.

The people below sending cheer and goodwill,
Made her sick really, sickingly ill,
To see how happy all Misticans were,
On Mistmas Eve, what a horrible blur.

For when she looked at the scraggly tree,
Resembling her own Mistmas festivity,
She saw no presents, no garland, no fun,
It was barren, for she had no one.

But what was this? A stranger approached!
A baby cheran, donned in woolen cloak,
Boreal poised herself, ready to freeze,
This silly fool coming to her on Mistmas Eve.

But the cheran came forward, smiling so sweet,
And said "Merry Mistmas! Here is your treat."
And gave her a gift, something tiny and small,
And Boreal's cold heart finally thawed.

She bent down to say "Thank you, young one."
And the cheran said "You're welcome!" And went on,
Down the icy mountain, leaving Boreal alone,
And Boreal smiled, hugging her small present, all aglow.