While plucking the petals of a flower she thought,

He loves me, he loves me not!

The last petal propounded her belief,

He loves me! She sighed in relief.

Leaving superstitions apart ,

She had known it from the start,

From the tell tale look in his eyes,

The evident longing behind every good bye.

When will you confess? She asked herself.

Not now, not now…but it will happen somehow.

It will…it will… it must.

In the power of love I place my trust.