Books, childhood and snow!

❄️ The Window Child

She waits by the window, sad and all small,

No laughter answers her quieter call.

Books are her friends, their voices always glow,

While outside drifts the silent white snow.

The children pass, and they never stay,

Her world is on pages, for night and for day.

Like the match girl in the story with frost,

Dreams that are lit, though warmth that is lost.

Yet in her eyes, a fire burns bright,

Stories shelter her through the long silent night.

Rejected, alone, yet never undone—

Her soul finds the warmth where words still have a run.

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