kashmir

I have always dreamt of you. And the dream was always so real that I almost believed I had extended my hand and held you in between my fingers, that I had sunk my feet in you and that I filled my eyes with your image. You who look like you have just been awakened by a morning sprinkle of virgin white, you soft crisp milky flakes. And with the sun deflecting from you and piercing the gusts of cold, I have no doubt why they call you paradise on earth.