Beneath the silvered sky, where frost-kissed trees stand,
In the sacred silence, where winter holds my hand.
I tread the path of memories, footsteps in the snow,
A dance with shadows, where echoes of the past do glow.

The crimson cloak now carries tales, stories never told,
Of battles fought within, of a heart that’s brave and bold.
Yet, as the frosty wind weaves through the pines,
I find solace in the truth that every scar defines.

Winter’s breath whispers secrets, caressing my soul,
A lullaby of healing, making broken pieces whole.
In the quietude of solitude, I unveil the pain,
A mosaic of emotions, like droplets on a windowpane.

Through the lattice of time, I glimpse reflections old,
A metamorphosis within, a story yet to unfold.
In the moonlit mirror, I see strength in my gaze,
A phoenix rising from ashes, through life’s tumultuous maze.

Loneliness transformed to a symphony of self,
Each note a reminder of treasures on my inner shelf.
No longer seeking validation, in the arms of the night,
I embrace the core within, bathed in pale moonlight.

This woman, this soul, resilient and free,
Paints her canvas with hues of possibility.
In the stillness, I find a sanctuary of grace,
A tapestry of lessons, each line on my face.

Winter’s woman, a ballad in the frosty air,
Navigating storms, with an unyielding flair.
For in the quietude, in the heart’s silent plea,
I discover the vastness of my own deep, endless sea.

A Poem by Siân Williams

Image credits: unsplash — Jakob Owens / Magne

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