Winter’s Hold and Spring’s Promise
In the cold embrace of winter’s grasp,
When mornings arrive with an icy touch,
I find it hard to leave my bed,
With dreams of warmth still in my head.
The world outside is gray and still,
A canvas painted with winter’s chill.
The cold seeps in, with no warmth to spare,
A dreary sky and biting air.
I long for spring, with flowers so bright,
To fill the world with color and light.
In the blooms and warming sun,
The promise of a new day has begun.
But until that time, I’ll dream and wait,
Through winter’s cold and spring’s first gate.
And though it’s hard to rise each day,
Hope’s gentle whisper lights my way.
For every dawn brings a promise,
Of blooming flowers and birds on the wing.
With a patient heart, I’ll greet the morn,
To find that spring, anew, is born.
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