In my mind is the calendar

Yet, expect not

A worry-less heart

From the lover in waiting.

For there are mothers who went to market,

Promising their suckling;

‘I’ll be home early.’

And never returned!

Sometimes, the shadows seen beyond the turning,

the sandals heard passing our home,

I remember you wearing off your sandals by the door,

And lighting the darkness sprinkled by an orange dusk.

Looking, listening, remembering,

this year too, I pass the start of winter alone.

Can you come a little earlier?

For I waited you months,

Okey I was; amaranth I was.

But now that I’ve arrived around tomorrow!

O! When‘ll tomorrow come!

O! You last hour! O!! You final wait,

What are you stuffed with: eons and eons?

Please come early;

I will have come to receive you

The very spot I had dropped you

Wearing your favourite dress,

And we shall too

Make our ambience smell of

Sweat and love

like after the rain and the arid land meet.

By Parbat Lawati

From: Nepal

Instagram: Poromiyomfami

Facebook URL: https://m.facebook.com/#!/parbat.limbu.79