New England winter,
where has she gone?
How come she forgot
the wedding dress of white
and the shiver of the cold kisses
that comes with chilly winds?

No, really winter, you
can't still be in green,
with grasses shining in rain,
and weeds still daring
to faces, now and again.
Willows in confusion
in January show
their yellow versions,
migrating birds too
hesitant in flying
to distant lands.

Let me send a mail
to spring,
to come in haste, for
seems you will be gone
without much cold,
may I know
what are the reasons?

New England winter
I wonder
if you be real and proper
in the coming year
or if I will be there
to see your long, white attire?
Hey, spring,
wake up from sleep
the trees are bare
no snow, nor flowers
nature waits for your your lips
to smear colors every where.