Through this window, framed in brick and stone, A mountain stands, in
silence grown. Its peaks are cloaked in winter's grace, A timeless
guard, a steadfast place.

Snow-kissed trees beneath the crest, In quiet awe, they stand at rest.
A world untouched, so still, so clear, Where cold and calm draw ever
near.

The sky hangs low, a silver veil, As frosty whispers ride the gale.
Beyond the glass, a frozen dream, A silent land, a crystal gleam.
And here I sit, warm in the glow, Watching mountains draped in snow,
Their beauty bold, their edges sharp, A frozen, distant, winter’s
harp.

-RootKit