Winter moves across the ground like a pale current, threading its quiet pulse through every forgotten corner. The air tightens, thin as glass, waiting for you to step into its frozen hush. Frost gathers on the edges of thought, turning memories into drifting shapes that hover just beyond reach. Your footsteps dissolve into the silver dust, a soft echo swallowed by the endless calm. Winter’s breath, carry me slow, Through the cold where shadows glow. Wind circles you in slow spirals, whispering fragments of old stories that have no beginning, no end— only the chill of something half-remembered leaning close. And as the horizon dims into blue fire, you feel the world settle into stillness, each breath a quiet lantern guiding you deeper into winter’s gentle dark. Winter’s breath, carry me slow, Through the cold where shadows glow. © 2025 Absolute Elsewhere. All rights reserved. Unauthorized use or redistribution is prohibited.
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