It's winter again, or perhaps it stayed,
In shadows long where sunlight frayed.
The frost still clings to windowpane,
And silence hums its soft refrain.

The clocks are slow, their whispers gray,
The days dissolve, the nights decay.
A breath, a cloud, a fleeting ghost,
A chill that haunts the quiet host.

The trees stand bare, their arms outstretched,
Like memories lost, or dreams unetched.
The snow, a shroud on weary earth,
A cradle cold, a frozen birth.

Oh, was there spring? Did summer sigh?
Did autumn paint the twilight sky?
Or is it true, as hearts suspect,
That winter stayed, and we forget?

'Tis winter once again, or so it's true—
The cold, the stillness, feels like you.

In crowded streets, I search for you,
In every face, a shade of blue.
The nights are long, the days don’t end,
No time can teach this heart to mend.

You’re etched in ink beneath my skin,
A story deep, both lost and thin.
Though miles may stretch, and years may pass,
This love, like stone, will always last.

In whispered winds, I hear your name,
A spark that flickers just the same.
You’re woven through each song I sing—
A haunting, endless, silent ring.

I’ll hold your ghost through every day,
Forgetting you is not my way.
So here I stand, and here I’ll be,
Forever yours in memory.