As I woke up to a gloomy morning,
In my suite on the sixth floor of the West Wing,
I looked out of the window to feel the rain,
Wishing, the shower would wash away my pain.
Why was I hurt? Did anyone care?
Why was my heart heavy? What great did it bear?
When my eyes evoked an agonising cry,
Why didn’t anyone console me or try to make them dry?
Now as I stared at the window sill,
I wondered, what had I done? Did I behave that ill?
So, as I pondered over that plaintive situation,
I found no clue. Thus, I sat down under depression.
I did not even realise as the clock ticked by,
Till his voice broke the silence and he said,”Hi!”
And then my eyes met his, his lips parted twice,
And he could not say anymore, but expressed through his glistening eyes.
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License.