Silent, the painted breaths of white softly glow from the dim of moon, or the street lights on the walk, without a sound or tune,

The frozen canvas, stealing warmth from lips, quiets the numbing as it grips, crystallizing moments in frosty memories,

With a world asleep beneath a frozen throw, the winter sketches its artistry, etching patterns on the trees, and everything below, 

 Alone, with the invitation to embrace the stillness it brings, a shiver of force that contracts and quiets the hustle and bustle of life,

Wanting the gaze of the waking sun, the promise of warmth a celestial prize,

Another dream beneath the whisper frost, holding breaths awaiting the new days arrival.

Snow falling in Edinburgh street at night

Roan Lavery

<>Whisper Frost<>

Silent, the painted breaths of white softly glow from the dim of moon, or the street lights on the walk, without a sound or tune,



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