Insults and wintery chill
the more we assume, the more it clutches us.
Reminiscing about hot tomato soups and buttered bread
a cosy family of four around
the pastel flowered sun Maica table
the hot and piping charcoaled sweet potatoes
my father peeling fondly
for yearning eyes and mouths of mine and my sister.
The bursting of crackers, visits of friends and families
the exchange of sweet packets, the hugs and smiles
the siblings outrace to draw arty patterns on veranda
and lighting of terraced earthen lamps
the joy of new clothes,
Diwali, a warm light each winter ushers.
Winters now in Arab deserts,
a treasured time with family
lightened with daughter's yearly Christmas visit
snuggled catching up under thick cosy blankets
listening to tales of life of cold London months
and spouse's scattered jokes.
Eyes awakening to blooming pink and purple flowers
caressing the walled fence
morning walks breathing the crisp chill desert air
Picnics on grass in weekends
Fingers encircling hot mugs of tea
A winter my senses nestle for each year.
