The world lies still beneath the icy breath,
Where winter’s touch brings whispers of death.
Branches bow beneath the weight of snow,
In silent woods where shadows grow.

Frosted whispers dance upon the breeze,
Chilling tales among the barren trees.
A frozen hush that holds the earth in thrall,
As winter’s grip tightens its silent call.

Yet beneath the snow, life softly dreams,
Awaiting warmth of sunlit beams.
The cycle turns, as seasons must,
From winter’s sleep to spring’s new trust.

In the quietude of winter’s reign,
We find both loss and life regained.
For every end a new beginning waits,
Beyond the icy, silent gates.