A message from
the sunny state:
"how I miss the
Stockholm 'T' bana,
I really do

strange, that he misses
trudging half a km
through snow and sludge
towards the elusive
university 'T' sign

Could it be that
he misses the cold;
the white snow on the ground?
hardly, for these are on offer
northwards in his land

ankle-deep in snow,
fresh cold wind n the face,
bare tress mute witnesses -
perhaps heaven 
compared to traffic jams

a two hour drive
everyday is pure
drudgery, even with
Italian lessons sweetening
the ear along the way

you are secure in the
seat belt, protected by
the airbag - but alone,
isloated, estranged
of your own choice

staring straight ahead
in the car on the
next lane could be
your long-lost friend
(no word after graduation)

in sunny California,
the lanes takes you
to different lives,
tangential to the lives
of those once part of you

but as you move through
that vast underground
art gallery, the Stockholm
metro, chance meetings
make your day

classmates, student
hallmates, the one who
scored the goal that
knocked your team off
the college league

teachers, friends,
who may hint at
shaping your future
while taking you on
a ride to savour the past

and, then, needless
to say, on those
warm platforms below
the winter winds,a new
romance may always bloom

no wonder, then, that
on the fast lane, as sunlit
days fall endlessly in line,
he yearns back to
"dreary" winter Stockholm