Frozen Horizons

You reside in a world where time stands still,

Where flakes of snow float gently, suspended above the chimney tops,

A flawless globe made of glass, barely spanning ten centimetres,

Yet it is still your entire world.

You rest, longing for the globe to be shaken, for the first of snowfall.

To contemplate, and watch each flake drift gently in winter’s majestic silence,

Frozen in mid-drift, as if the world was holding its breath.

Outside, beyond the horizon we know as the glass, everything seems just out of reach,

The clamour and rush of day-to-day life,

But here, in winter, inside this perfect world where time stops for iridescent beauty,

There is only peace, and ever so often a subtle reminder of existence around you.

Intricate snowflakes cling to your lashes, too fragile to touch.

Delicate, like the ribbon of moonlight that brightens the darkened streets.

You breathe out — a cloud of condensation forms, blurring your vision.

The streets are isolated,

Thick layers of snow engulfing rooftops.

Chimneys puff faint wisps of smoke,

A small source of warmth.

Each window glows a warm hue, and the snow weaves itself onto the blanketed windowsills.

You can hear the faint joy of a family gathering,

Echoes of laughs in the distance.

It makes you smile, light up, to know that such a serene time is enjoyed by many others,

Yet sometimes, you wonder what lies beyond,

To step outside from your snow globe world, but no.

You want to stay, where time is always still, and beauty never fades.