One of them returns in moonlit nights to listen to the love-lorn music of the other. She was the only wind to whom his windows opened. The lush green meadow on a bright riverside, with birds babbling in tree canopies and bushes- that is where they sat on the placid lake side. She threw little stones into the still waters to see the beauty of ripples they made, and little fishes swayed and swished in the lotus-filled pond, like her eyes. They stood silently watching the star-studded-sky and gazed with wonder at the many falling meteorites and shooting stars. Pairs of reddish dear watched them from shaded jungle foliages. The last they were seen by flitting midnight birds, as standing on rice-field ridges, swathed in snow. Some say they passed Jungle Rivers and mountains and stood watching the sea at night, hand in hand. Never ever were they seen again. In moonlit nights, one of them returns to dip in this earthly dream again.
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