Winter always calls before coming,
and I would eagerly wait.
The date is always misread,
and I fail to claim my day.

The chirps slowly descends,
the earth starts to curl faster,
 Days make my heart become a wanderer,
the winds hurt like naked truths answered.

The dead are cold,
 there is most warmth in living,
but snow is the closest to beauty in sky's weeping,

So I wait to hear winter whisper my name
and wait to  feed the soil my shape,
And wait some more, If I have some time left
I will make amends, maybe try to justify this end.

And when the day is here I am furious, I'm not dressed well!
We greet and sit, Winter pleases me as had I expect
Soon the year is at end and Sighs and vials turn dry,
This time me , your winter wait's for another round.

-Yamini Negi.