**January** wakes in a hush of white,
A breath held tight in the arms of night.
Resolutions bloom in the frost-bit air,
Hope tucked in scarves, whispered like prayer.

**February** hums in a shorter song,
A flicker of flame that doesn't last long.
Love in paper hearts and cold red cheeks,
Winter's last word before spring softly speaks.

**March** is a tug-of-war sky,
Snowflakes falling where green shoots lie.
The wind writes riddles across the land,
And daffodils dare to make their stand.

**April** arrives in a watercolor blur,
Rain-tapped windows and soft-stirred earth.
She cries, then laughs, then cries again—
A moody artist with a silver pen.

**May** is a garden breaking free,
With bees that hum in jubilee.
She ties ribbons in the trees with sun,
And tells the world its thaw has begun.

**June** is the scent of warmed-up skies,
Of barefoot days and firefly highs.
She brings the solstice in golden thread,
And sews long light where darkness fled.

**July** dances in sparks and flame,
She shouts with joy, forgets her name.
She is lemonade and sunburnt skin,
Freedom’s child with a reckless grin.

**August** exhales in a dusky tone,
A golden crown, a softened throne.
Fields bow low beneath her gaze,
The lull before the school bell plays.

**September** steps in with sharpened air,
A pencil tucked behind her hair.
She hums in apples, crisp and clean,
And colors the edges in golden-green.

**October** whispers in rust and smoke,
Her laugh is leaves, her breath a cloak.
She hides in pumpkins, grins at the moon,
And dances in shadows far too soon.

**November** slows the beating drum,
With quiet days and thoughts that come.
She gathers the year in a patchwork quilt,
Of thanks, of ache, of love and guilt.

**December** glows in candlelight,
A hush of snow, a holy night.
She counts the stars and cups the flame,
Then wraps the world in hope again.