Winter was not always about icy mountains snowflakes and Santa.
Sometimes winter was about a walk on Charles Bridge, where the cold European breeze mystified the ancient vicinity,
Where the waters underneath swayed, when the gust of air nudged along!
Where the breeze reminded me of wind chimes,
Where the wind touched prayers of the soul, along with morning Church bells.
Winter would be about icy mountains, snowflakes, and Santa.
And summer would be about walking on sandy shores, hearing the sounds of seagulls and savoring the paradise on the island.
But winter to me was about strolling on this boulevard, beautified with hazy mornings.
Where I wandered aimlessly during quiet hours,
Where the street lamps shed light over the dew that sparkled like diamonds on the window pane.
Winter was not always about icy mountains, snowflakes, and Santa.
Sometimes winter was about being right here, in this place called Prague!