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A woman asked me in my moments of sadness,

Have you ever, O Naveed, fallen in love?

Looking up at her I could not help smiling,

Even though I was jolted like bolts from above.



It was a question which she repeated again,

And it was something I could not answer,

I could not even look at her for the tears

Filling in my eyes made me falter.



"Have you ever loved somebody?"

The question was shot at me once more,

I nodded my head without even knowing,

What that conveyed to her or to me.



She laughed and looked at me as if,

Wanting me to explain whether it was "Yes";

A volcano of untold emotions was hissing,

Inside my heart but she could not guess.



'You are so strange and mysterious'

She said so with her gaze fixed on me,

Couldn't she make out what was obvious,

My quiet silence and its still constancy.



But I don't blame her, she was quite young,

Very much in love with the notion of love,

To tell her what it all really means,

Would have been a bullet killing a dove.



So, left alone in my aloofness,

I did not want to tell her the truth:

That to love and be loved is like a flower's freshness,

And also a consumption which I dare not express.