>>91172881In /awat/, the winter whispers soft,
No snowflakes fall, no frosts aloft.
By equatorial grace, the air turns mild,
A season's shift, serene and styled.
November’s end brings festive cheer,
A parade to mark the time of year.
Through city streets, a lively throng,
With music, lights, and joyful song.
At Watson's heart, a market gleams,
A Christmas vision born from dreams.
Stalls brim with treats and handmade wares,
Where laughter weaves through winter airs.
Though "Christmas" graces the tourist ear,
The locals hold their Snow Day dear.
A name that speaks of bonds and mirth,
Of cherished roots and festive worth.
The train now hums through fields and town,
Its carriages dressed in festive gown.
Hot chocolate flows, its warmth profound,
As travelers gaze at lights abound.
And when the Snow Day fades away,
The New Year calls its grand display.
At Watson's dome, the clock counts down,
With special guests from near and town.
Fireworks bloom, the crowd will cheer,
To welcome in a bright new year.
In /awat/, winter’s joy is clear—
A season’s charm, both far and near.
