Shayan Afzal

Upon this morn, a blanket white and pure,
Did softly lay upon the world outside.
Within my home, I worked, my heart secure,
While snowflakes danced, in waltzes, far and wide.

The hearth was warm, the light was soft and low,
As fingers flew on keys, in steady streams.
Outside the glass, a wintry, gleaming show,
Inside, a haven for my quiet dreams.

But soon, the snow to rain did turn and churn,
The pristine white to slush, a sodden gray.
The world outside, in wetness, did sojourn,
And I, in longing, watched the swift decay.

Oh, how I craved for warmth in food’s embrace,
To match the hearth’s soft glow upon my face.