Winter in France is cold …

͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­͏     ­

	Forwarded this email? Subscribe here for more Winter in France: a poem to start the new year Winter in France is cold … MARTINA NICOLLS Jan 5   READ IN APP   Winter in France 2025 The Seine is so quiet in this cold winter light, And the echoes of Paris are fading tonight. Lovers still linger, and let the world stand still, Love hides in the alleys near the famous red mill. In Normandy’s winds, hear old stories sing, Where the waves meet the cliffs and the cow bells ring. Though the chill grips the land, there’s a spark in the tide, A flash of tomorrow, the future by my side. Oh, winter in France, where the cold finds its way, But the warmth of a heart keeps the shadows at bay. With each frozen breath, there’s a new book to write, Through the dew-covered fields and the soft Paris night. A farm in Romilly, the ground wrapped in frost, Dreams sowed in soil, not a single one lost. The vines rest in silence, the orchards lay bare, Yet promise and beauty still linger out there. In the midst of the city, as the Seine flows on, Lovers follow the wake of a lone Mute swan. A reminder that endings are where we start, Our time to be free, me and you, Braveheart! Winter in France, a season of wonder, Not a time to retreat from the rain and the thunder. But to dance in the cold, to laugh with the stars, To live boldly, no matter the scars. Upgrade to paid Share Photographer: Martina Nicolls Can’t see the whole article? Want to view the original article? Want to view more articles? Go to Martina’s Substack: The Stories in You and Me More Paris articles are in my Paris website The Paris Residences of James Joyce Upgrade to paid Share You're currently a free subscriber to The Stories in You and Me . For the full experience, upgrade your subscription. Upgrade to paid   Like Comment Restack   © 2025 MARTINA NICOLLS PO Box 16 No 15975 Nobby Beach QLD 4218 AUSTRALIA Unsubscribe