Beneath the silent, frosted skies,
The world in silver slumber lies.
Each snowflake’s dance, a tale untold,
In winter’s gentle, icy hold.
The barren trees, with branches bare,
Stand solemn in the frigid air.
Their skeletal forms, a stark display,
Against the twilight’s fading gray.
The breath of winter whispers low,
Through valleys deep and hills of snow.
A quiet hush, so pure and deep,
Envelops all in tranquil sleep.
Yet in this cold, a warmth is found,
In hearths aglow and hearts unbound.
For winterâs chill, though fierce it seems,
Invites us closer, fuels our dreams.