She stands between breath and silence, a monarch of frost, born from winter’s sigh.
Her skin is alabaster light, her hair, a constellation of ice.
Snow drifts cling to her like memory, the air around her trembling with cold grace.
In her gaze, the stillness of frozen lakes.
In her touch, the whisper of vanishing storms.
She is both beauty and solitude.
A myth sculpted from the hush of snowfall,
The fleeting shimmer before thaw.
