Jingle bells ring far across the sky,
Not songs of joy, but war's sharp cry.
No festive lights, just burning flames,
And whispered prayers through death's names.
Snowflakes fall, not soft and kind,
But ash and smoke in bitter wind.
The silent night, once full of grace
Now shivers cold in war's embrace.
David stands with trembling hand,
A photo clutched from a peaceful land
Sara's smile and Lily's eyes,
Now ghosts beneath these foreign skies.
The bombs explode like shattered stars,
He fights beneath the shadowed scars.
His blood may flow, but not his will,
Their love remains a beacon still.
No carols sung, no gifts exchanged,
Just wounded men on the ground, blood-stained.
Yet in his heart, a flame holds tight
The thought of home, their warmest light.
And though the bells ring not for peace,
But the cho war that will not cease,
He hears her voice in memory's grace,
And sees her face in falling snowflakes.