The weather in Sapa is as cold as can be,

Like frost softly seeping through the trees

It reminds me of roasted chestnuts, hot chocolate—frothy and sweet,

Like Christmas and New Year destined to meet.

Even the pines sway with a gleam,

Welcoming all to the cloudy Sapa dream.

And you are there—

A presence I thank,

Like a warm winter blanket on a cold riverbank.

As Robert Frost wrote, “Two roads diverged,” and I

Chose the path less travelled by;

And in the hush of mountain distance,

That single choice

Made all the difference.