The frost-kissed dawn of January’s breath,
Paints the world in hues of silver and blue,
A canvas of quiet, where dreams may rest,
And hopes are born anew.

Beneath the blanket of a snow-clad night,
Silent whispers of the wind’s embrace,
Speak of promises in the pale moonlight,
A symphony of grace.

The trees stand tall, their branches bare,
Yet strong against the winter’s chill,
They teach us patience, how to dare,
To wait, to hope, to will.

January’s cold, a gentle guide,
Leading hearts to introspect,
To find the strength we hold inside,
And paths we must select.