The snowflakes danced their final waltz,

A silent ballad in the fading light.

The girl stood by the frosted pane,

Her heart as cold as winter's bite.

She longed for spring's sweet resurrection,

For sunbeams to thaw her icy core.

"Perhaps," she whispered to the wind,

"The sun will mend what's torn.’’

But spring arrived with timid steps,

Its golden touch upon the earth.

The crocus bloomed, the robins sang,

Yet her heart remained untouched by mirth.

The thawing snow revealed the scars,

The memories etched in frozen veins.

Each petal unfurled, but not her soul,

For grief had woven its silent chains.

And so she watched the seasons shift,

From winter's chill to spring's embrace.

Her tears, like dewdrops on the grass,

Still traced their paths upon her face.

The daffodils danced in golden gowns,

Their laughter echoed through the glade.

But she, a ghost among the blooms,

Clung to her sorrow's wintry shade.

The sun, with golden fingertips,

Stroked every petal, every thorn.

Yet her heart, encased in winter's grip,

Stayed frozen, and forlorn.

And so she wept, her tears like rain,

A silent plea to thaw the frost.

But spring, indifferent to her pain,

Moved on, its warmth forever lost.