How gently the snow falls!
Each flake pure and white.
Not a soul is in sight,
No weary heart has lost its might.
All shall endure this winter night,
And the dark shall be afraid to seep.
No one needs to sit alone and weep.
Safe in the warmth, we drift to sleep.
The trees stand bare of leaves,
Yet cradle snow like words hold dreams.
Lining on jackets, the sun’s weak beam,
All are part,
Of winter’s quiet realm.
DREAMS IN SCRIBBLES 
Leave a comment