Frosty Mornings

In the silent hush of dawn's first light,

A tapestry unfolds in the chill of night.

Frosty morns, a dance of ice and breath,

Nature's masterpiece, a scene to outlast death.

Beneath the quilt of velvet night,

A canvas of frost, sparkling and bright.

Each blade of grass, a crystal blade,

As winter's tender touch is gently laid.

The world adorned in a gown of lace,

Frost-kissed petals in an icy embrace.

A silver symphony, nature's own tune,

In the quiet hours before the sun's boon.

Whispers of winter weave through the air,

A serenade of silence, delicate and rare.

As Jack Frost tiptoes with nimble glee,

Leaving his mark on leaf and tree.

The breath of morning, a visible song,

A ballet of crystals, where they belong.

The world, a ballroom of enchanting white,

Draped in splendor beneath soft moonlight.

Crisp whispers herald the dawn,

A promise of new beginnings, freshly drawn.

In every frozen dewdrop, a tale to tell,

Of a night in winter, where dreams swell.

Branches adorned with diamond sheen,

Nature's jewelry in the wintry scene.

The world transformed by a frosty kiss,

A moment in time, suspended in bliss.

Footprints etched in the glistening ground,

A testament to life in stillness found.

Each step, a gentle disruption of the trance,

Yet, leaving behind a fleeting, icy romance.

The sun ascends, a golden ray,

Melting the magic, welcoming the day.

But in the heart, the memory's kept,

Of frosty morns, where dreams are swept.

So let us savor the moments divine,

Where frosty mornings in splendor shine.

For in their beauty, a lesson is taught,

That even in cold, a warmth is sought.

Ephemeral, the embrace of frosty morns,

Yet within them, a universe adorns.

A testament to nature's artful hand,

In the frosty embrace, a wonderland.