I don't like these winters,

Krishna.

The cold, cruel breeze

Brushes my hair

Pricks my skin

And sends shivers down my spine.

I hate it.

It does not let me

Wear my favourite skirt

Or eat my favourite mangoes.

I sit and endlessly

Shiver.

Just when today

I went out for a walk

In my old sweater

And sweatpants,

I saw

A ray of sunlight.

Bright, warm

And so inviting

Amidst the pale

Pale vicinity.

The ray reminded me of you,

Krishna.

But then again,

What doesn't.