Cologne Snow

In the realm where winter's breath doth reign, Where silver flakes descend like whispers soft, There stands a forest, bare and stark, yet fair, Its branches woven in an ancient loft.

Beneath the sky so gray, they stretch and twine, A dance of shadows in the fading light, Each limb adorned with frost's delicate design, A fleeting art in black and white.

Through paths where snowflakes weave their silent flight, A lone figure treads the hushed and frozen ground, The city's glow, a distant, ghostly sight, As through the night, the flakes around him swound.

O mortal souls, beneath the winter's spell, They wander forth in darkness, cold and deep, Their umbrellas raised against the falling snow, A fleeting refuge from the sky's soft sweep.

Upon the bench, a solitary form, In quiet vigil waits the passing time, While snowflakes kiss the earth with gentle norm, And shadows dance beneath the streetlamp's chime.

Behold! A statue stands in regal might, A warrior king upon his steed so proud, Their forms etched sharp against the falling night, A timeless guard within the winter's shroud.