Winter fell—like veil over a dream,

Blue on the hills, still as a hymn.

I walked the road between whispers of snow,

Like ghoust of the winters they use to know.

I’m just looked for the Christmas tree,

Out in the night where the lost lights gleam.

Searching the frost for memory,

Of something I almost, but never did see.

A traveler came with a smile half-spent,

Said, “Are you heading where the snowflake went?”

“On nights like these we walk, my friend,

Not knowing the start or the end.”

“Don’t get lost, at least in yourself,”

He said as the wind rang a silver bell.

And I kept on walking endlessly,

Looking for the Christmas tree.

Then, round the corner, the sky fell low,

A girl stood like glowing on the snow.

She met my eyes, and time stood still,

The world was hushed—yet quietly thrilled.

“Are you here for the tree—or fate?”

I asked before my voice turned faint.

She laughed so softly, pure and free,

“I’m waiting for someone...

Who’s usually late.”

Winter breathed, and I could see—

I found my heart by the Christmas tree.