Zhorik
The last light of January fades,
Soft as whispers, dim as shades.
Snowy dreams melt into streams,
Flowing gently into new themes.
The winds still hum a winter song,
But time has nudged us all along.
Leafless trees stretch, reaching high,
Yearning for the warming sky.
January, with your cold embrace,
You’ve left a quiet, silver trace.
Now step aside, let new days grow,
With hope in hand, we onward go.
//Poem By Zhorik//
//1.31.2025//
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