Rain At 4 Pm Poem by Seema Aarella

As if my old memories are bundled up
And delivered to me in instalments
while I try to engross my mind in the
Temptingly pleasant 4 o' clock rain.

Sinking deeper in his thoughts
The more I tried to hold back
And subdue the popping question
‘Do I love him? '...i don't think so!

What if I had made friends with
Eternal silence? To let his voice
Resound so that I could memorize
The typical baritone and manner
Of the only few words spoken by him.

What if I had disguised my love
As vengeance and continued
To hunt for him time and again
In an emotionally evident search
And hoped to stumble upon somewhere

What if I had always blamed it
On my limitation but still
Had his name boldly etched
On my heart in plain text of passion
And internally bled with pain of futility

What if I denied lied and ridiculed the thought
And dismissed the popping question
Under the veil of vanity,

What if my restless psyche
Prods me again and again
‘Do you love him? '......No, I don't think so! ! !