This return of winter...
after one year...
is like meeting an old flame...
a lover...
misty lipstick wet
on my lips...
and her pink pullover...
and her jeans and white sports shoe...
once again she coming with drops of dew
on her hair...her eyelids...
her sitting by the fire
and jamming of guitar...
knocking wooden beat...
crosslegged on a stool...
Wind sweeping through so cool...
her eyes kind of drowsy...
her red nails...a bit lousy...
and tents zipped up...
Deodar trees...tall silent
and mystic hill tops...
drooping down...bent...
The return of winter
again this time of the year
is like...in a way...return of her...
my mountain girl...
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