a flashback narrative...

As you stand there with hair flowing black
And eyes lit up by the light from the fisherman's shack
In you find her waiting like a picture obsolete
A picture sold for a few bucks on my city's street
Across that white building with architectural moments
Of supreme delicacy, my mind you there send...

Why you so much resemble-
My first experience of female ensemble?
My first kiss, first night-long weep?
My first day dream, my first night without sleep?
My first feel of someone's covered glassware?
My first going beyond the outer layer
Of affection, respect, longing, curiosity...
Of affected pride, lost false vanity?

O my love! how you return
In many forms but to the same turn...
To the same rise and fall of  breath...
To the same sense of having faith-
On your soft fingers with which mine you hold
On your tales of twists and turns by your flickering eyes told...

O how to me you keep coming back
With your eyes so deep and hair so black...
O how I again at the river-ghat you find
Tracking the signals of my occupied mind...
Standing there, for ages, on the steps of rock
Leading to the water which Time always mock...