FROSTED VERSE

The night holds tight to its velvet veil,

While dawn creeps in with a frosty tale.

The world is still, the air is sharp,

A silver light ignites the dark.

Beneath the stars, the frost appears,

A fleeting gift, a dance of years.

It touches earth with quiet grace,

Leaving behind a glistening trace.

The grass once green now dons a coat,

Of icy lace, a chilled remote.

Each blade is painted in the light,

Of dawn’s first kiss, a gentle bite.

On every tree, the frost takes hold,

A crystal crown, a touch so bold.

Its delicate lace adorns the leaves,

And paints the world with quiet reprieves.

The world feels paused in winter’s breath,

A silent whisper to the depths.

The frost, it glistens, fleeting, bright,

It captures beauty in its light.

Windows bloom with frosty lace,

Etching art upon glassy space.

Delicate swirls, so finely drawn,

They fade with the coming of the dawn.

The rivers pause beneath their skin,

Their water frozen, whispers thin.

But still beneath that glassy surface,

Life stirs in secret, silent service.

The coldness bites, yet brings a spark,

A fleeting warmth within the dark.

Each moment that the frost remains,

It holds the world in soft refrains.

The sun ascends with golden grace,

Chasing shadows from their place.

The frost begins to melt away,

As winter yields to the light of day.

But in its wake, the memory stays,

Of fleeting magic in winter’s haze.

A moment pure, a silent song,

That lingers as the world moves on.

Though frost may leave with the rising sun,

Its beauty lingers, never undone.

In every shimmer, every shine,

The frost leaves traces, soft, divine.

The earth awakens, life returns,

But still the frost within it yearns.

A silent mark on time’s own face,

A reminder of winter’s grace.

The trees now shake the frost from limbs,

And bare their arms in sunlit hymns.

Their roots still feel the cold embrace,

A memory that time can’t erase.

As morning stretches toward the sky,

The air grows warmer, yet still dry.

The frost retreats, but not its charm,

For winter’s kiss remains warm.

In every crack and every seam,

The frost has left its quiet dream.

A fleeting moment, here and gone,

But in the heart, it lingers on.

So as the day turns into night,

And stars again begin their flight,

We hold the frost within our soul,

A reminder of the season’s goal.

For winter, though it fades with time,

Leaves behind its whispered rhyme.

In every frost, in every cold,

A story of beauty, still retold.

And when the frost comes back once more,

We’ll welcome it as days before.

For in its touch, we find a grace,

That lingers long after it leaves its trace.

Each year, it returns with gentle might,

A touch of cold, a breath of light.

We welcome it, though we know the price,

For in the frost lies paradise.

In every season’s fleeting breath,

A moment that defies death.

Frost’s soft touch is a reminder true,

Of beauty born in winter’s hue.