The First Kiss of Winter

Winter has arrived, the air is calm,

Frosty whispers on the windows charm,

A breath of cold, a gentle touch,

A soft caress as night falls much.

The trees stand bare, their branches frail,

Shivering softly, they wear the gale,

While leaves, once bright, now rest below,

Like forgotten dreams beneath the snow.

The earth exhales a frozen breath,

And stars shine brighter, defying death,

The moon, a lantern glowing wide,

A silent witness to winter's stride.

The first kiss of winter, soft and real,

Unveils a world in a chilly feel,

A chill that dances upon the skin,

A reminder that the cold lies within.

The streets are hushed, the world in sleep,

Snowflakes fall in a rhythm deep,

Each one a secret, each one a prayer,

Gently drifting, floating through air.

Breath turns to mist, a fleeting dream,

As winter paints the world with a gleam,

A canvas white, a landscape bright,

Nature’s quiet promise, soft and light.

Fires burn bright in hearths aglow,

Families gather, sharing the flow,

Hot tea steams in tired hands,

As snow falls softly across the lands.

Yet there’s a stillness, too, in this,

A quiet beauty, a fleeting bliss,

For winter speaks in whispers low,

And beckons us to a gentle glow.

The first touch of winter, tender and bold,

Wraps the world in a blanket cold,

But even in the chill, we find,

A peaceful pause for heart and mind.

So let the frost come, let it remain,

For winter’s here, in soft refrain,

And in its embrace, we breathe anew—

A time to pause, a time to view.

In winter’s breath, so sharp, so clear,

We find the stillness, draw it near,

The world now wrapped in pure delight—

The first, soft kiss of winter night.