Home,
was a series
of street corners
and intersections,
ordered, marked,
and known
in familiar ways;
that moved
in comforting rhythms –
an easy to read map
of people and places.
Until I met you.
You gave me
street-lit mementos
of a stolen night;
changing what my landmarks meant –
late night ice-cream indulgences,
tea-time musing by the beach,
dosa breakfast
at the corner café –
as we exchanged stories
on tree-lined avenues;
and a lifetime of my memories
mingled with a lifetime of yours.
And I was left
with nothing
but a what-if?,
pregnant
with the past,
the present,
and the heavy weight
of possibility.
You took the contours
of my city,
and redrew them
using your own legend,
leaving me lost in a city
that was once,
familiar to me.
