Believe Poem by Shruti Goswami

I do not believe in love some say,
And I am inclined to believe them some way,
But then I recall, how lovely the sun looked,
On a rainy or a winter day,
How I love to watch the raindrops,
A sudden shower in the midst of May,
How I love to watch the full moon,
In all its pristine glory;
How I love the way the trees did sway,
As the gentle breeze whispered their names.

How lovely the night sky looks,
How I love to look up in anticipation
At the bejewelled envelope of
A star studded affair again.

And the sudden rush of blood,
When I hear a voice call my name,
Is it not love when at the end of dawn,
I look forward to kisses wide awake?
What is that thing, which causes pain and pleasure,
When you miss or embrace a soul?

I would almost have believed, there is no love,
But the wretched feelings won’t stop the show.