The breath of winter echoes promise true.

A deathbed steals spring’s untold delights.

The snow becomes a vessel for death’s dew.

The leaves now led away into the night.

A tree endures the battle: shaped by blight.

It sheds its luscious leaves: a sign of grief.

A snowflake obscures Daffodil’s sunlight.

A single leaf replaced by winter’s grief.

 “But misjudged is winter in vain!” she cries.

The hidden truth is sheltered by bare trees.

The snow becomes a vessel for new eyes.

That winter is more than spring’s coffin’s keys.

The seasons bring more than they seem to be.

Yet a threadbare tree is all you can see.