Poems by

The Theatre

a poem by Shweta

Sitting on the steps of the theatre,
I brooded over the events of the past week.

I couldn’t believe it.
How much had changed in those seven days,
and how much more might.
I just prayed,
for it to be for the better.

I looked at the stage,
but my mind was somewhere else,
and probably his too.
Both of us aware of each other,
and of ourselves.

I couldn’t believe
it was he sitting beside me.
Scene after scene came
and went too,
but the story of my life was at a standstill.
What new act would be appended,
I wondered.
the Sutradhaar of my drama was so quiet.
Probably still blocking the next scene,

How I wished him to break the silence,
how I prayed for the right act.
And just then,
he took my hands in his.
My breathing erratic,
hands perspiring,
and mind in turmoil,
I waited for his verdict.
He didn’t have much to say.
Just three little words,
I love you.