The first Frosty Winter of 1963
People still managed to cope but that first frost was a killer
The first Frosty Winter of 1963
The winds of time blow sharp and clear,
Back to the bitter, frozen year,
When winter’s grip refused to yield,
And snow draped every street and field.
The frost arrived, a silent thief,
To paint the world in icy grief.
Each branch adorned with frosty lace,
A frozen world, a stilled embrace.
The rivers slept beneath their shell,
The lakes transformed, a glassy spell.
No roaring thaw, no softened plea—
Just endless nights of 1963.
The skies unleashed their frozen might,
A ceaseless storm of blinding white.
Drifts rose high like castle walls,
Shrouding homes and silencing calls.
Children danced in frostbound streets,
Their laughter bold in icy beats.
While fires burned, and hearts grew near,
To fend off winter’s cruel veneer.
Yet even then, amid the freeze,
Hope lingered soft upon the breeze.
For every winter yields in time,
To spring’s warm breath, her gentle chime.
The Winter of 63 from memories now fades,
A old days in story of by gone days
Yet still it chills the memory passed down
That endless frost, and snow all around.
About the Creator
Marie381Uk
I've been writing poetry since the age of fourteen. With pen in hand, I wander through realms unseen. The pen holds power; ink reveals hidden thoughts. A poet may speak truth or weave a tale. You decide. Let pen and ink capture your mind❤️
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Comments (4)
Nice
Marie this is lovely and heartfelt poem! ✨😊
I wasn't even born yet for I must have been watching from Heaven. Good work on this wintry poem of 1963.
Excellent poem ✨ Love how informative it is and your word choice to describe it.