Beneath the hush of falling snow,
Where silence wraps the earth below,
A cornflower lifts its fragile head—
A burst of blue where all seems dead.

Queen Anne’s Lace, with crown of white,
Stands tall against the fading light,
Its brittle stem, its snowy veil,
A memory the cold can’t pale.

Though winter grips with icy breath,
These blooms defy the touch of death.
They whisper: even in the chill,
Beauty dares to blossom still.