New York, New York

Dear Winter,

I don´t know if you remember me. We´ve met before. Maybe you just don´t recognize me anymore.

All my life, you´ve been showing up during May – unlike here in New York. Your presence back home is like a ghost. I bearly see you, but I can hear you. The zinc in the roof calls you out, drop after drop.

In my town your essence is liquid. In uptown, you are as hard as you are cold.

You´ve come late, they say, to visit the big apple. Come on. Between us, I know that´s not true at all. You arrived late, on purpose. You wanted me to be warm for as long as possible. Thank you, Dear Winter, you are a doll.

From Panama, from Egypt, from South Sudan we have come. From many more other countries and faraway lands, where there is no such thing as snow.

We were waiting for you, like a kid waiting for Santa; incredulous yet expectant.

(…to be continue..)
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