She’s back again with the same old stories that always bring new chills.

As I stand in our doorway like I’m doing in years,

The old wind greet me,

I didn’t greet her back,

The wind is a young girl,

Whom I still remember in my early childhood,

 

I always cherish to sip hot milk and chocolate,

As I grew older I become philosophical,

And I learn to sip coffee and tea,

And I didn’t rush it.

 

Every sip is contemplation,

Every sip is a fragment of thought,

Every sip is a remembered or a fabricated story,

So the wind greet me that dawn,

I want to take a long morning walk,

Because time is scarce now that I have a family

For me to avail long nocturnal walks,

 

So the wind greet me,

But I didn’t greet her back,

I just feel her arms around my belly

As she came inside my shirt,

 

Like the girl from my toddler years,

The wind likes to play,

My unborn son, I want to play with him or her,

I want him or her to enjoy childhood,

The simplicities of life that could be experience

By a mere hot cup of milk or chocolate,

Or playing with the eternal juvenile happy breeze.