If the sky turns grey,
I promise now I will stay.
I have seen the light break through
and I know it finds its way.

The storms can shake my heart,
heavy winds and aching days,
but beauty waits in quiet things
that steady me and stay.

The moor wind on my skin,
old cobbles underfoot,
music rising in my chest,
and words that let me breathe.

So when the sky turns grey,
I remember what is true:
there is still a world of beauty —
and I am living in it too.

— Frost ❄️