Winter’s Dream

In whispers soft, the winter's dream,?A world wrapped in a silver seam,?Where icy breath and starlit skies,?Create a tapestry of sighs. The trees stand bare, like sentinels,?Adorned with crystals, frosty spells,?Each branch a brushstroke, pure and white,?Painting the canvas of the night. The air is sharp, yet calm and still,?With echoes of the distant chill,?Snowflakes dance on a gentle breeze,?Spiraling down through the sleeping trees. In cozy nooks, the fire's glow,?Crackles softly, warm and slow,?While shadows flicker, tales unfold,?Of winter nights, both brave and bold. The moon, a lantern high and bright,?Watches over the peaceful night,?And dreams of spring, with blooms in tow,?Yet treasures now the softest snow. For in this hush, the heart can hear,?The whispers of a year gone near,?In winter's dream, both deep and wide,?A quiet grace where dreams abide.