The breeze comes softly, Like a thought you didn’t invite, Yet somehow needed. It slips between moments, Brushing past worries,
By Freya2 days ago in Poets
The morning wears a silver cloak, As frost paints patterns on the windowpane. Silent whispers float through the air, Where dreams dissolve in the hush of snow.
By Freya4 days ago in Poets
The world sleeps beneath a silver shroud, Snow drifting slowly, muffling every sound, Covering streets, rooftops, and forgotten paths,
By Freya5 days ago in Poets
