In the quiet hush of winter’s breath,
Blankets of snow weave tales untold,
The world in silver, draped and dressed,
A tranquil scene of white and cold.

Trees stand tall, their branches bare,
Reaching up to skies so gray,
Whispers of wind in the frosty air,
Guide the wanderers along their way.

Footprints mark the silent trails,
Where whispers of the past reside,
Each step a story, softly unveiled,
In the gentle glow of wintertide.

The world pauses in this serene dance,
A moment caught in time’s gentle fold,
In winter’s embrace, we find our chance,
To listen to the stories, silently told.