In the hush of winter’s night,
When snowflakes dance in the pale moonlight,
The world is wrapped in a blanket of white,
And dreams take wing in silent flight.

Frosted windows, a canvas clear,
Painting stories of a time so dear,
I hear the whispers, soft and near,
Of winter’s song that we hold dear.

The trees stand tall in their icy gowns,
Quiet guardians of the sleepy towns,
Beneath their boughs, the earth compounds,
A mystic stillness, no sight nor sounds.

Yet in this cold, there’s warmth we find,
In memories of a kindred mind,
Winter’s embrace, so gentle, so kind,
Leaves a trace of peace behind.