A Starlit Stage

 

It’s a pleasantly cool Calcutta evening

            With the January sun on its way down:

Strums of a guitar I hear in the distance

            As rowed back into shore, I view boats.

 

I’m sitting by the banks of the Ganges

            Watching the river serenely flow below:

The sun giving its ripples an orange glow

            In slipping, plunging into their soft folds.

 

A quiet tranquil now envelops me snugly

            In viewing for long, water’s serene flow;

Birds tired of chirping are rushing home  

            As lights illuminating the bridge turn on. 

 

In shimmering water I now see your glow

            As far notes of a guitar ushers you ashore:

Where I’m seated below the strand lights

            As on a stage awaiting our roles to enfold.

 

The last act we played, it was on this shore

            But feels like such a long, endless time ago,

As I sorely miss your wordless dialogues which   

            I’ve learnt, alone rehearsing both our roles.

 

In my starlit view you’re real, our opera’s true,

            As the river – our audience in waves of delight

Squirms in the chilly breeze: even as I’m warmed     

            In the last scene – passionately embraced by you.