I recall those chilly Winters, with their nostalgic embrace,
When the snow would blanket our lane, the spot where dreams took place.
Windows frosted over, glistening under the moon's soft glow,
As scarves and mittens danced around, upon the snow-filled patio.

I recall the hush of snowflakes, as they settled on the ground below,
Covering the gentle hillsides, where once green grass did grow.
Doors closed tight, yet warmth spilled out, a beacon in the night,
When all would gather round the fire, sharing tales of pure delight.

I think of the skaters gliding, on the frozen lake's vast expanse,
Their cheeks flushed pink, their laughter light, caught up in Winter's dance.
As night approached, they'd gather round, the bonfire's inviting heat,
Exchanging stories of their day, their triumphs and small defeats.

There was the old man, a storyteller, just two houses down the lane,
By his fireside he’d sit, spinning tales of snow and rain.
With a cocoa mug in hand, on a Sunday evening bright,
He'd captivate the neighborhood, with tales of snowball fights!

I journeyed through those icy trails, so often with my Mum,
Reveling in the stories shared, of days when she was young.
These times, they held a magic, a charm that's hard to say,
Those enchanting Winters of old, forever in my heart will stay.