The Snow
The snow is terrible this year.
The road towards the library
takes longer than usual.
I keep the books home, waiting,
for the roads to clear up.
Buses drag by,
with chains on their wheels
leaving long monotonous marks.
Smell of raw pines and chimney smoke
brings your memory back
in the thin December air.
The train shrills past every day
slicing the air between the hill and my house.
Your memory touches like wind,
and halts, at that moment
when you left;
like one of those winter evenings.
The snow has been terrible this year.
The days longer without you.
Next year, I will wait,
when they clear the snow.
I will wait at that same station.
I feel you in each passing train.
Please tell me, when will you come?
I will watch from the hilltop
when your train comes
slowly, waltzing and whistling,
from the bends of summer hill.
Nabin Kumar Chhetri studies at the University of Oxford. He graduated with a degree of M.Litt in Novel from the University of Aberdeen. He blogs at nabinkchhetri.wordpress.com
The Snow was first published in Apple Valley Review