Shillong, the pine incensed city of music and culture,
Where walking the streets in itself is an adventure.
Oranges and plums to decorate different seasons,
Cherry blossoms in autumn summing beauty's reasons.
A city of rain, and cafes in every corner for refuge,
But there's always occasion to celebrate the deluge.
Misty morning canvas awaits dreamy eyed artists,
Waiting to share their stories with their little twists.
The yellow and black taxi thronging every street,
And kwaipacked in leaves makes the city complete.
A mini paradise of woven dreams in every bend;
Young musicians brings alive the city every weekend.
A city where four seasons come to meet every day,
And arrays of umbrellas donning PBin her display;
Tugs and pulls its visitors towards some release
Of their worries and cares, offering momentary peace.
There's always time for momoswith some sauce,
And mood for aloo muri and pani puri, just because.
Puppy love romances through, on certain occasions,
And at times leads to lifelong transformations.
Where memories of friendships are always left behind,
As reasons to return, and themselves to remind,
That some things in our lives never really change;
Making us wish, if some pieces of life, we could rearrange.