The Whispers of Winter

In winter’s grasp, the world does sigh,

A breath of frost beneath the sky.

The trees stand bare, their branches pale,

As icy winds begin their tale.

The snow descends in silent sheets,

A velvet blanket 'round the streets,

Each flake a whisper, soft, divine,

A fleeting star in cold design.

The moonlight dances on the snow,

A quiet glow where shadows go,

It speaks of secrets, long since known,

Of silence that is deep, and grown.

The earth is still, the air is clear,

Yet in the quiet, something's near—

A truth concealed in frozen night,

That time is still, but hearts take flight.

For in the cold, we find our way,

A journey deep, a pause, a stay,

A moment where the world turns slow,

And in the stillness, we can know.

The winter speaks, not with a sound,

But in the quiet all around.

A time to seek, a time to find,

The fleeting peace within the mind.

So let the cold embrace you tight,

And find your soul within the night,

For in the silence, you will see,

The winter's gift—the truth to be.