For Christmas, of me you might dream, You can't hail me but we're on the same team. On wintry days, in me you might play, Unlike my wetter cousin, I'm rarely asked to go away.

Cloaked in bridal white, I glide upon the mirror's face. My silence is a song, my neck a question's trace. I am often the subject of legends told, of transformation or of beauty brave and bold. What am I?

The fight for freedom. That spin much around the sun. The time for changing.

I sound like I'm the place for grifters and cheats. A natural chamber found on no street? Do not get Vexed and do not dismay.. Behind two sockets your brain puzzles away!

In the realm of ancient oak, where whispers of the forest speak, I stand the guardian between the known and mystique.