Beneath a sky of leaden hue,
Where winter's breath chills through and through,
A valley shivers, hushed and still,
Bound by the cold's relentless will.
Chillai Kalan, a forty-day reign,
A frigid grip, a bitter pain.
The mercury plummets, a biting frost,
As nature's beauty lies frost-tossed.
Snowflakes dance, a silent fleet,
Blanketing fields, a wintry sheet.
The mountains stand, a frozen sight,
Clad in white, a solemn night.
Homes huddle, seeking warmth's embrace,
Kangers glow, a fiery grace.
Families gather, sharing tales,
As icy winds weave mournful wails.
Children's laughter, muffled and low,
As they bundle up, against the snow.
Old folks yearn for summer's kiss,
Lost in memories of warmth's bliss.
The Dal Lake sleeps, a frozen dream,
Shikaras moored a silent scene.
The city's pulse, a muted beat,
As life slows down, a winter's retreat.
Yet, hope endures, a flicker's gleam,
In hearts that face the winter's scheme.
They find solace, in shared warmth's glow,
A bond is unbroken, steadfast, and slow.
As spring approaches, a distant sigh,
A longing for the sunlit sky.
The valley waits, with bated breath,
For nature's rebirth, conquering death.

.    .    .