By Harleen Kaur
As frost-kissed trees in silence sway.
The world, a canvas, pure and bright,
Bathed in the glow of morning light.
Breath hangs heavy in the air,
A cloud of mist, so crisp and fair.
The ground beneath, so cold and still,
A frozen blanket on the hill.
Footsteps crunch with every stride,
As winter whispers, far and wide.
The sun, a shyness on the rise,
Peeks through the clouds with sleepy eyes.
The world, it feels so calm, so clear,
A quiet peace, no rush, no fear.
In winter’s arms, the morning gleams,
A perfect start, a day of dreams.
By Harleen Kaur
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