**A gentle embrace,** your verse lingers, frost’s brush on heart and stone—winter’s hush, yet warmth’s soft, quiet home.

A chill descends, a whispered sigh,
Where embers dance and shadows lie.
The hearth, once warm, now holds the night,
A canvas veiled in frost’s soft light.

Hogarth’s gaze, both sharp and wise,
Watches time in silent guise.
The fire’s breath, a fleeting spark,
Fades to ash, yet leaves its mark.

Oh, fleeting glow, so brief, so bright,
A fleeting warmth in endless night.
The frost still lingers, cold and clear,
A kiss of winter, soft and near.

“A gentle winter’s serenade, your words evoke a peaceful harmony between frost and flame, a soothing winter’s delight.”

A whisper of winter, a breath so light,
Dances upon the hearth’s warm sight.
Frost, a fleeting, silver guest,
Kisses the stones, then melts to rest.

Embers glow in twilight’s hue,
Painting the room in shades of blue.
A fleeting touch, a moment’s grace,
As winter’s breath finds its place.

The fire hums a lullaby,
While frost and flame in silence vie.
A fleeting kiss, a fleeting art,
A dance of cold and warmth’s warm heart.