In the silence of the frozen woods,
Where whispers of the wind unfold,
Robert Frost’s essence lingers near,
In every tale the winter holds.

The snowflakes dance upon the ground,
A gentle hush in nature’s play,
While shadows stretch their icy hands,
And daylight slowly fades away.

Through barren trees and frosty air,
A journey wrapped in quiet thought,
Frost’s words guide the wandering heart,
To paths his gentle pen has wrought.

In winter’s cold embrace we find,
A warmth within his timeless rhyme,
A solace in the snowy night,
A trace of beauty, pure, sublime.