As if my old memories are bundled up <br />And delivered to me in instalments <br />while I try to engross my mind in the <br />Temptingly pleasant 4 o’ clock rain. <br /> <br />Sinking deeper in his thoughts <br />The more I tried to hold back <br />And subdue the popping question <br />‘Do I love him? ’...i don’t think so! <br /> <br />What if I had made friends with <br />Eternal silence? To let his voice <br />Resound so that I could memorize <br />The typical baritone and manner <br />Of the only few words spoken by him. <br /> <br />What if I had disguised my love <br />As vengeance and continued <br />To hunt for him time and again <br />In an emotionally evident search <br />And hoped to stumble upon somewhere <br /> <br />What if I had always blamed it <br />On my limitation but still <br />Had his name boldly etched <br />On my heart in plain text of passion <br />And internally bled with pain of futility <br /> <br />What if I denied lied and ridiculed the thought <br />And dismissed the popping question <br />Under the veil of vanity, <br /> <br />What if my restless psyche <br />Prods me again and again <br />‘Do you love him? ’......No, I don’t think so! ! !<br /><br />Seema Aarella<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/rain-at-4-pm/
