This is poetry about a person whom i met , where originally our connection formed during interview process , this meet up was to esatblish the formal connection between us as freinds , collegues , co worker etc

She arrived like a page unwritten,
eyes behind glass that shimmered with quiet storms,
a nose pin catching the light like a tiny galaxy,
her laughter bright, clumsy, unafraid.

We met under a cloudy evening,
in the restless streets of Koramangala,
where the air held the scent of rain yet to come
and a thousand lives passing by We walked slowly, aimlessly,
as if time had loosened its grip,
and I felt, perhaps for the first time,
what it was to simply be
here, now, fully alive in the present,
with her laughter brushing against my countless questions
like a monsoon breeze against parched earth.

Truffles, where the air smelled of fries and easy living.
She ate like the world was worth it
each bite blessing even dull dishes with her faith.
Somehow, the way she let food dance on her tongue
made the stale seem fresh,
the bland, bold.
She was a kind of alchemist,
turning the mundane food delicious
with nothing but appetite and honesty.

Then, to the bowling alley
plastic pins clattered like dominoes of joy,
our laughter echoing through the hollow lanes.
Her hair caught in the glow of TV screens,
eyes gleaming with mischief and focus,
that small nose pin still there,
like a tiny rebellion sparkling on her face.

Later, we sat under a silver-soaked sky,
beside her place,
where the night was stitched with silence
and soft movie talks picking right partner.
Words flowed
about nothing, about everything,
about dreams half-done and futures half-built.
The moon was a kindly witness,
pouring its calm into our uncertain hearts,
making the moment seem more ours.

She spoke with the ease of a child
and the depth of a poet
and I listened as if each word
was water to a long-thirsty desert.

Maybe the magic of the night
wasn’t the truffles, or the bowling,
or even the moonlight.
Maybe it was just
her.
The way she looked at me,
spectacles sliding down her nose,
her voice wrapping around my name
like a spell I never knew I needed.

Some nights
are simply made for keeping,
and some girls
make the world feel brand new
just by eating a plate of fries
and laughing under the soft, forgiving moon.