In the early chill, the city colours itself in silence.
Grey shades drift across misted windowpanes;
lamplight lays yellow stripes on the wet pavements.
The night lingers, reluctant to fade.
Blue shimmers in the sky,
the world caught upon a single sigh.
White settles over rooftops and streets,
a silver haze drifting through the quiet canals.
The city moves in slow, winter steps.
People shelter within drifting clouds of time.
Behind every door, a warm promise glows—
a spark of magic holding back the night’s retreat.
And in that quiet palette of cold-born hues,
a quiet longing lies concealed.
Winter whispers in every shimmering shadow
that even darkness carries dreams waiting to be revealed.
