On cold mornings her ivory skin glows,
A soft blush rising like the dawn’s first light,
In crisp air her beauty gently bestows,
A warmth that chases shadows from the night.

Her laughter dances like the frosty breeze,
Each breath a cloud that mingles with the chill,
And nature pauses, eager to appease,
In quiet moments, time seems to stand still.

Beneath the silver sky, her grace unfolds,
With every step, the world around her glows,
A portrait painted by the day’s soft golds,
In simple beauty, all her charm bestows.

So let the morning chill in silence sit,
For in her warmth, the cold we dare forget.

Tomaž Jevšenak