The summer we spoke
when the little purple grass flowers
grazed against my ankles
in the early May wind
In Keonjhar
We met for the first time
In the summer breeze
by the sea
In Puri
The first monsoons together
by the coast
As children walked in Prabhat pheri
to celebrate independence
In Vizag
The time we walked
hand in hand
in the early winters
through the Parthasarathi rocks
In Delhi
When we set up our first home
little by little
with things we built
with our own hands
in the November heat
In Mumbai
I keep these memories
like books dog-eared
that I can pick from the shelf
and sniff
and read
In those pages
we fall in love
again and again
quickly
slowly
through the years
