This winter will leave silently, like a dream that fades at dawn

This winter will leave silently, like a dream that fades at dawn, wrapped in memories carefully hidden in the corners of the soul, to be unwrapped again when the cold weather turns back time, when the snowflakes will once more carve their path to the waiting earth. The cold tap water, which once chilled our hands with shivers, will remain suspended under the summer's heat, silently wondering: Are there still fingers that seek its chill, longing for winter, to feel its touch like a memory that comes alive in the heart of summer? The breeze through the window, which once made the curtains dance, will now lay the sun's rays on lazy and warm afternoons, where you will drift into a half-sleep like a sweet and gentle spell, in a tender dream that caresses the eyelids with a smile of light. The fire from cold evenings, where a part of the night was consumed, will now scatter its ashes into the wind like a farewell song, leaving behind only echoes of warmth and light that fade away, secrets kept in the heart, like a story whispered softly. This winter will slowly slip away from the present, but it will leave a part of itself, hidden in a secret pocket of a sweater forgotten on a shelf, waiting to be found by a hand that remembers the touch, when the cold will once again dress the world in its cloak of hidden chill.