The Winter's Chill

[seeyat]

Swaying trees in the breeze, lifted leaves still holding,
For their tiny stems never wanting to let go,
Branches glisten lightly with the sliightest hint of frost,
Giving moonlit tiny tendrils ethereal glow,
The cool night air it reaches through the folds in warmest coats,
With every burst of wind there comes a chill,
And all the stars you see above do shimmer seem to gloat,
That they are far enough away to thrill,
So stepping ever slowly through the forest in the night,
You see a few short paths to choose to take,
Remember once you do there will not be another right,
For that is then the moments you will make,