When winter walks with silver feet,
The world grows hushed, the air turns sweet.
A breath of frost on every tree,
Like whispered dreams the eye can see.
The morning wakes in sheets of white,
Soft as prayer and calm as night.
Each leaf that danced in summer’s grace
Now rests beneath a pale embrace.
The rivers slow their restless song,
As icy arms grow still and strong.
And winds that once were wild and free
Now hum a quiet melody.
In every home, a gentle glow,
Warmth against the drifting snow.
Stories rise like curling flame,
Each heart and hearth just the same.
Though winter seems so cold and bare,
There’s hidden life still waiting there.
For in its silence, deep and true,
It softly shapes the world anew.
When winter walks with silver feet, The world grows hushed, the air turns sweet. A breath of frost on every tree, Like whispered dreams the eye can see. The morning wakes in sheets of white, Soft as p