In the silent embrace of the winter’s chill,
Where the earth wears a shroud of white,
Shadows of life stand frozen and still,
Draped in the quiet of endless night.

Trees stand barren, their whispers are hushed,
Beneath the sky’s cold, silvered breath,
While the world in muted tones is brushed,
In the gentle dance with silent death.

The wind sings softly, a sorrowful tune,
As nature holds her solemn court,
Under the watchful, pale winter moon,
In this realm where time is cut short.

Yet within the frost, a promise remains,
That life shall rise from beneath the snow,
For even in death’s cold, lingering chains,
The seeds of tomorrow quietly grow.