Winter

Every year when winter begins approaching,
I get nostalgic.
There's something in the way it smells,
a sense of belonging,
a sense of longing,
I feel like there's somebody I need to meet,
or some place I need to be.
I don't know who I remember or what I long for,
but there's a sense of familiarity in this cold breeze.

As I walk down the streets in this nearing winter,
I feel like I need to call somebody
and ask them to meet me at the crossing,
or by the yellow signboard.
I wonder what happened in some winter that I cannot remember.
Or if there's a memory of a cold winter day,
yet left to be made.