I feel the pull of you, a need to let go.
Whether the flakes fall light and shy,
Or drift down heavy from a winter sky,
I’d leave all behind to find your touch,
The world can wait—it won’t mean much.
In meetings, work, or mundane schemes,
I’d chase the snow and all its dreams.
You’d leave your duties, heed the call,
Through the storm, you’d come, after all.
And in the snow, we’d meet halfway,
Our hearts on fire, come what may.
Together, lost in winter’s grace,
The snowflakes melt upon our face.
A quiet ultimatum, pure and sweet—
In snow’s soft blanket, we’d compete
With joy that’s more than flesh and bone,
A promise made of snow and stone.
And if I’m teaching, lost in thought,
I’d close my book, say, “I must go,
For it is snowing, and I know
Where love begins and bodies flow.”
Then, I’d leave the room with no regret—
In the snow, where our souls are met.
Imran Nazeer
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