The skies wears pale and wickedness
Cold winds whisper an old solemn tale.
Where are the roses that once bloomed bright, Buried now beneath this endless white.
Branches shiver, stripped and bare, Dreams of spring stay in the frozen air.
Each flake comes down, a fleeting sigh A quiet hymn beneath the brooding sky.
The rivers sleep in their icy chains,
A world subdued, yet beauty remains.
Footsteps vanish where silence grows,
And time forgets where the north wind blows.
Beneath the frost, a promise stirs,
In roots concealed, life’s quiet whispers.
Though winter reigns with its icy hand,
The earth still dreams of a greener land.
O heart, do not mourn for what is gone,
Winter’s chill, too, shall be undone.
For every frost, a sun will rise,
And life will bloom where silence lies