Whispers of Tromsø

In Tromsø’s hush of February skies, Emerald rivers in silence rise, Brushed with violet, stitched with gold, Stories of the cosmos, ancient, told. The mountains cradle sleepy light, As village dreams glow soft and bright, While northern winds in colors weave, A dance of wonder, hard to believe. Beneath the stars, the cold and deep, the sky sings secrets it longs to keep.