deepundergroundpoetry.com
Winter Is Coming
Winter is coming,
a whisper in the air,
sharp as the bite of frost,
cloaking the trees in white.
Leaves drop in silence,
their rustling hushed
beneath a blanket of snow,
like secrets buried deep.
The sun fades early,
casting long shadows,
cool breaths curl like smoke,
and lights twinkle in the dusk.
Children bundle up tight,
racing through icy streets,
giggling as snowflakes swirl,
each one a tiny wonder,
catching dreams on their tongues.
The nights stretch longer,
wrapped in cozy blankets,
stories come alive by firelight,
hot cocoa warming our hands.
But beneath the beauty,
a chill settles in,
an elder reminding us
that nature’s power stirs.
Preparations begin as
we gather and share,
finding light in each moment,
as winter weaves its magic,
and we hold on tight
to the warmth we create.
a whisper in the air,
sharp as the bite of frost,
cloaking the trees in white.
Leaves drop in silence,
their rustling hushed
beneath a blanket of snow,
like secrets buried deep.
The sun fades early,
casting long shadows,
cool breaths curl like smoke,
and lights twinkle in the dusk.
Children bundle up tight,
racing through icy streets,
giggling as snowflakes swirl,
each one a tiny wonder,
catching dreams on their tongues.
The nights stretch longer,
wrapped in cozy blankets,
stories come alive by firelight,
hot cocoa warming our hands.
But beneath the beauty,
a chill settles in,
an elder reminding us
that nature’s power stirs.
Preparations begin as
we gather and share,
finding light in each moment,
as winter weaves its magic,
and we hold on tight
to the warmth we create.
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