Winter Solstice, dumplings feast,
Fortunes told, from age increased.
With gender known, and years bespoke,
Let fate's tale unfold in prose.
For those young and full of zest,
Dumplings foretell, what may manifest.
With each bite, a year unfolds,
Of joy or strife, as fate beholds.
For men, a tale of strength and might,
Winter's wisdom, guides their flight.
With each dumpling, a tale they weave,
Of valor, courage, and the deeds they'll achieve.
But for women, a different sight,
Winter's solstice, whispers of delight.
With each morsel, dreams take flight,
Of love, of joy, in the pale moonlight.
And as the years, like dumplings, pass,
Each Winter Solstice, fate's looking glass.
For age and gender, a story tell,
Of the paths we walk, and the lives we dwell.
So on this day of solstice cheer,
Let dumplings guide, and fate draw near.
For in each bite, a tale is spun,
Of the journey we're on, till life is done.