Original artwork description:

Snow falls like forgotten words
from a sky tinged with the last warmth of day—
a soft gold cradled above
the hush of indigo mountains.
Below, the village leans into the cold,
its rooftops kissed with light,
its windows breathing quiet.

Trees stand like ink on a pale page,
bare but not lifeless,
etching silhouettes of memory
against a season’s stillness.

Footsteps vanish in powder,
leaving only the echo
of something once said
in the language of wind.

Here, winter is not bitter—
it is reverent,
wrapped in the hush
of things held sacred
when all else sleeps.


All paintings are signed on the front and are delivered with the certificate of authenticity.
High grade oil paint and mediums used .
Packaging: Securely wrapped in bubble wrap then carefully packaged

Materials used:

oil on canvas stretched on a wooden frame

Tags: