The wind blows sharper now, teasing bare branches, scattering last defiant leaves like secrets we forgot to keep. Under gray sky’s weight, breath fogs silver, a fleeting ghost of warmth. Yet somewhere, roots stir, dreaming of spring’s green riot. Cold? Sure. But even ice cracks eventually—listen, that’s hope thawing.
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Author:
ROSHI (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: December 17th, 2025 06:28
- Category: Nature
- Views: 1
- Users favorite of this poem: sorenbarrett
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Comments1
A few lines of the season that touch the heart and warm the soul with the hope of spring's thaw. Lovely and a fave
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