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The Snow<\/strong><\/p>\n <\/p>\n The snow is terrible this year.<\/p>\n The road towards the library<\/p>\n takes longer than usual.<\/p>\n I keep the books home, waiting,<\/p>\n for the roads to clear up.<\/p>\n Buses drag by,<\/p>\n with chains on their wheels<\/p>\n leaving long monotonous marks.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Smell of raw pines and chimney smoke<\/p>\n brings your memory back<\/p>\n in the thin December air.<\/p>\n The train shrills past every day<\/p>\n slicing the air between the hill and my house.<\/p>\n Your memory touches like wind,<\/p>\n and halts, at that moment<\/p>\n when you left;<\/p>\n like one of those winter evenings.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n The snow has been terrible this year.<\/p>\n The days longer without you.<\/p>\n Next year, I will wait,<\/p>\n when they clear the snow.<\/p>\n I will wait at that same station.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n I feel you in each passing train.<\/p>\n Please tell me, when will you come?<\/p>\n I will watch from the hilltop<\/p>\n when your train comes<\/p>\n slowly, waltzing and whistling,<\/p>\n from the bends of summer hill.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n