In the hush of winter’s frozen breath,
Lies a tale of quiet, silent death.
The world in white, a shroud so cold,
Whispers stories yet untold.

Among the trees, the shadows play,
Dancing ghosts of yesterday.
Frosted whispers on the breeze,
Echo the sighs of fallen leaves.

Beneath the snow, the earth does sleep,
In dreams where shadows gently creep.
The stillness deep, the silence wide,
Marks the end of autumn’s pride.

Yet in this death, new life does hide,
Awaiting spring to turn the tide.
For winter’s end brings forth new birth,
Renewing life upon the earth.