on the terrace...

She discovered him sitting happy on the terrace...
Two legs flung on two sides...kind of riding on the iron rails...as if he was a horse rider...
'Come on up! if you're brave!'
He teased her, from there...exotic smile pasted on his face...
She looked up...
She the cellist...
Just coming out of the concert hall...captivating the audience...perspiring, excited;

She climbed up the iron stairs...
Her white gown was a real problem...
It was hindering her steps on the stairs narrow and slippery...
She got hold of an end of her gown, tugging the flowing thing up a bit...
Revealing her soft white thigh...
So sensuous!

She climbed, teeth gripping her bated breath...
For she wanted to be there, desperately...
On the iron rails...
She wanted to sit by him on the rails...just like him...the nonchalant horse rider...

The moon was brightest of the season...
The night was the coolest one...
And from the top of the building they could see life passing by, ignorant of the two
Sitting on the terrace fringe...
On rails...

Then, breaking the silence of the night,
He started the interlude of his favourite song...
'And it seems to me that you lived your life...'

'Hey! Am I really a candle in the wind?'
She asked him softly, swayed by the night, the moon and the eagle's eye view of the city...
'Yes! you're...dear...you are!'
He murmured, absentminded...

Then they embraced...
They embraced each other...
Balancing their bodies on the rails...
A tricky thing...risk-prone...
But they still did that...
Bound by the night and the moon and the eagle-eyes...
On the terrace...



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