There's Something About Cuttack

Today, it was his turn,
To tempt me for the Spring delight
The terrace still felt warm,
Was that for the tiny feet to feel welcome?
It was tough to tell
If it was the waning of April sun,
Or, was it the squalls before Spring storm.
There's something about the sunsets, 
That makes me go weak in my knees,
As they would, then!

We raced up,
Him to his terrace of excitement,
Me, to my terrace of memories.
The stars and rockets played hide-and-seek
Across the caravan of clouds,
As I fielded a hundred questions,
Reliving every single question,
Of every single night.
Was it the same star, then? 
And, the cloud?
They were endless skies, then
Of grey and black,
They are still the same,
A sketch of timeless beauty,
Only the head that rested on the shoulders
Has changed tonight!
There's something about my terrace
And the stars, 
That draws me to them, 
As they would, then!

Your hands feel the same warm,
Warm in spite of the chill breeze,
Your grip more assuring,
Like they would then,
The wrinkles faded away
As a naughty smile lit up the shy face,
As the eyes met mine,
Across a bunch of golden strands,
There's something about Cuttack
That makes me miss you, so much 
As they would, then!


© Sashikant Mohanty